The Downward Spiral
by JellyBean30
Summary: His leg pain gone, will House be able to overcome his drug addiction? HouseCameron. Rated M just to be safe. COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

The Downward Spiral

Chapter 1

House sat on the edge of his hospital bed, shrugging on his sport coat. He took a quick look around, wanting to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything. He grabbed his Ipod off the bedside table, stuffed it in his bag and zipped it up.

"You ready?" Wilson asked, poking his head in the door.

House stood up and grabbed his cane. He tossed it at Wilson, and made his way to the door, his limp barely noticeable. They walked down the hall to the elevators.

"How did you get Cuddy to discharge you so soon?" Wilson asked. " It's barely been two weeks."

"What's wrong Mom, afraid I won't be able to take care of myself at home? I AM a doctor, you know," House snarked as they stepped into the elevator.

"I know that. I just want to make sure you don't push yourself. At least here you could torture the nurses, what are you going to do at home alone for the next few weeks until you can come back work?" Wilson was really afraid House would be calling him at all hours of the day and night, bored out of his mind.

"What makes you think I'll be home alone?" House wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

"Because you don't have any other friends to come visit you, and I have a life and a job." Wilson replied.

"I'll call the twins, don't you worry about me." House grinned devilishly as they stepped out of the elevator into the lobby.

Cuddy was standing waiting for them. She hadn't really wanted to discharge House this early, but the entire 3rd floor nursing staff had threatened to strike if she didn't send him home.

"I see you're walking without your cane, your leg must be feeling well." Cuddy remarked.

"Figured that out all by yourself, did you? No wonder you got to be a doctor." House shot back at her.

"Too bad the ketamine didn't fix your mouth!" she retorted.

"You're just jealous because I had a brilliant idea and you didn't." House said, in a self-congratulatory tone.

"Your ego will be worse than ever now, won't it?" Cuddy sighed.

"I don't think that's possible," Wilson quipped.

"Children please," House smirked, "you're giving Daddy a headache." He reached in his coat pocket and took out his Vicodin. Cuddy and Wilson both stared, but Wilson gave Cuddy the slightest shake of his head, indicating not to bring it up right now.

"Home, James." House commanded, and walked through the doors. Wilson rolled his eyes and followed.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

House sat in his apartment, staring blankly at the TV. It had only been two days, and he was bored to tears. He needed something to occupy his time, his mind. He needed a distraction.

He reached across the couch and grabbed the phone and dialed a number. It rang a few times, before a voice answered.

"What now?" Wilson snarled. This was the fifth time today House had called, and it had only been two days. This was going to be an awful few weeks.

"I'm bored, and I'm almost out of Vicodin." House said.

"And how is that my problem?" Wilson asked.

"I need you to write me another prescription, I'm out of refills, and send someone over here with it." House was in no mood for jokes. There was a long pause on the other end of the phone, before Wilson finally replied.

"I'll send Foreman over."

"No," House said. "Send Cameron."

"What difference does it make?" Wilson asked.

"Because Cameron has a better ass," House answered, and hung up. House didn't know why exactly he cared who brought the Vicodin; he'd just rather see Cameron. Maybe he could talk her into making him some dinner.

There was a knock at the door, and House got up slowly off the couch. Although his leg was no longer in pain, he was still recovering from two gunshots wounds, and he really was sore.

House opened the door to a very annoyed Cameron. She thrust a white pharmacy bag at him.

"Here," she snapped.

"What's got your panties in bunch?" House asked.

"I'm late, if you must know," she answered.

"I thought you doctors were supposed to know better," House quipped. "Didn't anybody ever teach you about the birds and the bees?"

"I'm late to be somewhere, you jerk. Do you need anything else, or can I go?" Cameron spat at him.

"Well, I haven't had any dinner yet. Feel like cooking something for me? You do cook in the nude, don't you?" House grinned wickedly.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Cameron replied. "Order a pizza, I already have dinner plans." She turned to leave.

"You and the other kiddies throwing a party since Daddy's not around?" House sniped.

Cameron turned slowly and gave House a withering look.

"If you must know," she said, "I have a date." And with that, she turned and walked off.

House closed the door and made his way back to couch, while opening his Vicodin bottle and shaking out two little white pills. He swallowed them and sat down on the couch, annoyed. He called and ordered a pizza delivery, but he was still aggravated. Cameron should have stayed and cooked him dinner, he was recovering from surgery after all. He decided he'd punish her a bit for not being her usual caring self.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Cameron stood in front of mirror, checking her hair for what had to be the tenth time. Her cell phone began to ring. Checking her watch, she saw that her date was now 15 minutes late. Assuming it was him calling with an excuse, she answered the phone.

"Where are you?" she asked.

"I don't know, where are you?" House asked in his best creepy voice.

"House?" Cameron asked.

"No, it's the boogey man, but I lost the directions to your apartment. Where are you again?" House joked.

"What do you want?" Cameron sighed.

"Just checking in on your and your date. He's not getting too fresh is he? I haven't had time to set up my video camera."

"God, you're such a …" Cameron was too exasperated to even come up with a good word.

"Chick magnet? I know, it's a blessing and a curse" House quipped. " Judging from the tone of your voice, you're not having a very good time."

Cameron sighed. How can he know that?

"He's late, that's all. I'm afraid we'll miss our reservation." Cameron knew there was no point in arguing with House. She swore, sometimes it was like he really was a mind reader.

"Ooh, dinner first. You know what that means, don't you. He'll expect you to put out," House teased.

"You're such a child, honestly House," Cameron scolded, just as the doorbell rang. "He's here, I've got to go." She hung up without waiting for a reply.

House smirked to himself. This was going to be fun.

Just as Cameron and her date, a very handsome, but slightly boring young man, were sitting down to dinner, her cell phone began to ring again.

"I'm sorry," Cameron said, "I have to answer this, it could be the hospital." She answered the phone.

"So, where did lover boy take you?" House asked, without so much as a hello.

"House, what in God's name do you want now?" She tried to speak quietly and calmly; she didn't want her date to know who was on the phone.

"Nothing, I just missed hearing your soothing voice," House crooned.

"House, I'm serious. Stop calling me." Again, she hung up without waiting for him to reply.

House grinned to himself. This was way too easy, only two calls and she was already in a fluster. Well, maybe just one more to make sure he really got his point across.

When the phone rang again, Cameron almost didn't answer it. But, her caller ID wasn't working, and she knew it could be the hospital.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized again to her date. "My caller ID isn't working, I have to answer." He smiled politely, but she could tell he was beginning to get annoyed.

"Dr. Cameron." She answered the phone.

"Is this Dr. Allison Cameron?" a female British voice inquired. It sounded a little off, but Cameron didn't give it a second thought.

"Yes, may I ask who's calling?" Cameron replied.

"This is a neighbor of Dr. House. I heard a loud noise from his apartment. I know he was just released from the hospital, so I came down to check on him and found him on the floor. He says he's alright, and he went to his bedroom, but I didn't think he should be alone."

"Did he ask you to call me?" Cameron asked, confused.

"No," the voice replied, " I found this number on his cell phone, he'd left it on the couch. I'd feel better if someone came by to check on him, and your number was the first one that said doctor…" the voice trailed off.

Cameron sighed. She really had no choice but to go and make sure he was okay. She turned to her date with an apologetic smile.

"I'm sorry, there's been an emergency, and I'm afraid we'll have to cut our date short." She turned back to the phone. "It's alright, I'll stop by to check on him as soon as I can get there."

"Thank you," the voice answered. "I would just fell so guilty if I left him and something happened. I'll just slip out, so he won't think I was meddling. He can have a bit of a temper, you know."

"So I've noticed." Cameron answered. She hung up the phone and began to gather up her things. She turned to her date, who was now looking very annoyed.

"Greg, I'll call you tomorrow and maybe we can reschedule. Sorry, this happens sometimes when you're a doctor." She smiled again.

"My name is David, not Greg. Don't bother calling, I know when I'm being ditched." He turned and stormed off, leaving her to pay the check.

Cameron looked stunned. She'd called him Greg? She hadn't even noticed. She mentally kicked herself. House better be bleeding when I get there, she thought to herself.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

House sat patiently waiting on the couch. His eyes were closed, an evil little smirk on his face. He checked his watch again; it had already been 25 minutes. What was taking her so long? Just then, there was a knock at the door.

House made his way to door to answer it. He walked surely, but slowly, still sore from the surgery. He opened the door to find Cameron, looking concerned and somewhat annoyed at the same time. It was face House had often seen from her, usually pointed in his direction.

"What are you doing here?" He asked.

"Your neighbor called to say you fell, and she wanted me to check in on you. Are you okay? Is it your leg? The ketamine isn't wearing off already, is it?" She questioned him, searching his face for a clue to how he was feeling.

"My neighbor?" House made his way back to the couch, hoping Cameron would follow. She did. House smirked to himself; she was so predictable, he thought. "What neighbor would that be dear?" House asked, feigning the voice of an older British woman. "I didn't think any of Dr. House's neighbors would care if something happened to him?" He turned around, his eyes full of childish glee.

Cameron looked stunned. She couldn't believe she fell for that. How gullible can you get, she thought. And what's worse, he knew he could get me. How am I ever going to get through these next few weeks, she wondered to herself.

Cameron turned and gave him her best dirty look. She should be disgusted with him, but somehow, all she could see were those gorgeous blue eyes, looking directly at her. It was so hard to stay mad when he looked her right in the eye like that, she just couldn't help herself.

"House, you ruined my date. How can you be so, so…" she searched for the right word, all the while trying to maintain her anger under his piercing blue gaze.

"Clever?" House offered.

"Mean," she said softly. She wasn't really angry with House anymore, she was angry with herself. Once again, she'd let him suck her in. She'd spent the last year trying so hard to get over him, and with just three phone calls she was dumping her date and rushing over to his apartment to make sure he was okay. Why did she let him have so much power over her?

House looked at her carefully. She seemed genuinely upset. That wasn't exactly what he was going for. He hadn't wanted her to get angry, he just wanted her to be thinking about him. He'd hurt her feelings, again, and now he wasn't sure what to say.

"What can I say, that's just the type of guy I am." He shot at her. He didn't want her to know he was second guessing himself now that she was really upset. Better to let her think he really was a jerk, through and through. If she got the sense he actually had any feelings at all, she'd never give up and let him go.

Cameron hung her head, defeated. She was beginning to suspect he was telling the truth, and there really was no other side to Dr. Gregory House. Tears began to form in her eyes, but she didn't want him to have the satisfaction of watching her cry over him again. She turned, but not quickly enough. He saw her eyes glistening with tears, and turned away. This wasn't how this was supposed to go at all. He was just bored, and needed something to occupy his mind. Now she was crying. Maybe he really had lost all ability to relate to other people. He wanted to apologize, but he couldn't make the words come out. She spoke first.

"If you're really fine, I'll just go home. Torture Wilson the next time you're bored." She walked out, not once looking back.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

The next day, Cameron knocked on the door to Cuddy's office. She entered when instructed to do so, and sat down.

"What can I do for you, Dr. Cameron?" Cuddy asked.

"We need a case," Cameron replied. "Please, I'm begging you, anything."

"I thought you all would enjoy having House off your backs for a few weeks" Cuddy questioned.

"I would, if he was actually off my back. He's bored, and when he's bored, he's torturing someone. I guess this time, its me." Cameron was desperate for something else to occupy House with.

"I'm sorry, Dr. Cameron, there is absolutely nothing right now that even remotely needs your team. You'll have to hope for some horrible tragedy, I can't help you."

Cameron sighed; she'd been afraid Cuddy would say that.

"Dr. Cuddy, you've known him longer than I have, isn't there anything you can suggest to give me a little peace? He called me three times last night, and twice this morning before I could even take a shower. I didn't think House ever woke up before 10. Apparently, he'll make an exception to torture me at 6am." Cameron just wanted to get him off her mind for a little while.

"Go and ask Dr. Wilson if he has any cases House might be interested in. Otherwise, I'm afraid you're on your own." Cuddy gave her a sympathetic smile before Cameron got up to leave. She felt badly for Cameron, but she was glad House hadn't picked her to torture while he recuperated.

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Cameron stuck her head around the corner of Wilson's door, but the office was empty. She sighed; this had really been her last hope. She turned and made her way to the elevator. While she waited, her pager went off. It indicated she was needed in the ER.

Forgoing the elevator, she rushed down the stairs to the Emergency Department. Foreman and Chase were already there. A young girl had been brought in by the paramedics, and the ER docs were having a hard time getting her stabilized. None of the conventional treatments seemed to be working. With some effort, and a slightly off the wall suggestion by Chase of an alternative, they were at least able to get her stable enough to move. Cuddy reviewed the case and assigned it to the team.

The ducklings gathered in the conference room, and called House. They described the girl's symptoms to him. After assigning Foreman to write the symptoms on the board, of course not without a snide remark about not letting Chase touch his markers, they began the differential.

After about 45 minutes, and an absurdly long list of possibilities, House ordered them off to perform their tests and get the patient's family history, with instructions to call him back when they had something new.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

"Well, we can add muscle weakness in the legs, and decreased urinary output to the list of symptoms," Chase announced as he joined the rest of the ducklings in the conference room.

"Nothing really stood out in the history either," Foreman said, turning his head in the direction of the phone while writing the new symptoms on the whiteboard.

"Nothing?" House's voiced asked from the phone on the table. " You weren't listening hard enough."

Cameron joined the group, "All the tests so far are negative, we're back to square one."

"Cameron, go back and talk to the girl, without the family in the room. Foreman, you take the parents somewhere else and go over the history again. Somebody isn't telling us something, and we need to figure out what. Call me back when you get something." House hung up.

Cameron and Foreman went to the patient's room. Foreman asked the parents to come join him in the hall, while Cameron went in to speak to the patient, Jenna.

"Hi, Jenna. My name is Dr. Cameron, I'm working with Dr. Chase and Dr. Foreman to try to find out what's wrong with you. How are you feeling?" Cameron asked.

"Tired," the girl replied quietly.

"Jenna, I need to make sure that you've told us everything you can remember before you started getting sick today. It's really, really important." Cameron gave the girl a kind smile, hoping to coax something out of her.

"I told you everything I remember. We were having a party because my Uncle Mark came back from Mexico. He showed me lots of stuff he brought back with him, then we went outside and my head started feeling funny, then I couldn't breath and I fell over." Jenna was clearly winded from speaking even this much. Her face was even grayer than when Cameron entered the room.

Jenna's eyes slipped closed, and suddenly the monitors in the room began beeping wildly. The girl was going into respiratory arrest. Foreman and Chase, along with a couple of nurses, came charging into the room, and had to intubate her in order to regulate her breathing.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Respiratory failure, loss of kidney function on top of everything else." Cameron reported to House by phone.

"What are we missing? Come on, people, there has to be something!" House was nearly shouting with frustration. Instead of getting better, the patient was slowly getting worse. It had been days, and all they done was rule out everything they could possibly think of while this little girl slowly died.

"It almost mimics the symptoms of a neuro-toxin, like a venom, but she hasn't been bitten by anything, " Foreman suggested.

"Are you sure about that?" House asked.

"We checked for snake bites, House, there's nothing there." Chase replied.

"What was she doing when she collapsed?" House asked again.

Cameron sighed, "House, we've been over this, she was at home, family reunion party, remember?"

"A reunion with who?" House asked.

"What difference does it make?" Chase asked. "None of the rest of the family is sick."

"With who?" House asked again, impatient now.

"With her uncle," Cameron answered. "He just came back from Mexico."

"Why was he in Mexico?" House continued.

"He's an entomologist. He went there to study bugs. What does that have to do with anything?" Chase asked.

"Because maybe he didn't just bring back sombreros and tequila." House suggested.

"Chase, Foreman, find the uncle. Ask him what he brought back with him, and see if there is anything little girls shouldn't be playing with. Cameron, go back and ask the girl again if she was snooping through Uncle's things for something." House ordered.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Chase and Foreman found Jenna's parents in the hall.

"We need to speak to Jenna's uncle, the one who was in Mexico." Foreman told the parents.

"Why, what does he have to do with this?" Jenna's mother asked.

"We don't know, maybe nothing. But Jenna's symptoms are very similar to those we would expect from a venomous snakebite. We know she wasn't bitten by a snake, we're thinking her uncle may have brought back some type of insect that could be harmful." Chase told them.

Meanwhile, Cameron went back into Jenna's room. The girl was sleeping. Cameron shook her arm lightly to wake her.

"Jenna, it's Dr. Cameron. I need to ask you something, and it's very important that you tell me the truth. Just nod your head if you understand." Jenna nodded. "Good, I need to know if you were touching anything that belonged to your uncle, maybe while he wasn't looking? Something that you weren't supposed to touch?"

Jenna slowly nodded her head, she couldn't speak, but Cameron had enough information to give Chase and Foreman a place to start.

"She said she was looking through the uncle's things when he was out of the room. The stuff she wasn't supposed to touch" Cameron told them as she came out into the hall.

Foreman and Chase arrived at the patient's house with the father. They found the uncle in the backyard, sitting alone.

"Mark, these are two of Jenna's doctors," her dad said. "They need to ask you about the things you brought back from Mexico."

"What, you mean like souvenirs?" he asked a little blankly.

"No, we mean like any insect specimens you might have brought back." Foreman replied.

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"Well?" House asked as he picked up the phone.

"You were right," Cameron said. "The uncle brought back a part of a colony of Mexican army ants. Apparently, they weren't quite as dead as he thought. She opened the container, and then dropped it on the floor. A bunch of them bit her while she was trying to put them away. She didn't tell anyone because she was afraid she'd get in trouble."

"I'd call almost dying getting into trouble, wouldn't you?" House snarked. "The things kids will do so mommy and daddy won't send them to bed without dessert. Start her on the treatment, call me back if she doesn't start improving."

House hung up the phone, pleased with himself for solving the case, but exasperated because it meant once again, he had nothing to do. Everybody lies, he thought, even adorable 8-year-old girls. He got up off the couch and made his way toward the bedroom. Might as well take a nap. He pulled out his bottle of Vicodin, and noticed he was already getting low. He'd have to call Cameron and ask her to bring him a refill. He barely glanced at the bottle as he swallowed two the little pills, but something about it seems a little off. He looked more closely and noticed that the bottle stated 'No refills'. That was odd, usually Wilson wrote him a prescription with refills available. The pharmacy must have screwed it up, he thought to himself. Idiots, I'll have to call Wilson tomorrow, House made a mental note, and then went to take a nap.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Cameron, Chase and Foreman sat in the conference room, waiting. They'd had no new patients since they cured the little girls, and blessedly, House had kept his torture tactics at a tolerable level. In fact, Cameron felt like she'd gotten off easy. After those first few days, he merely sent her a thousand pointless emails from home, knowing of course that she would have to at least glance at each one to make sure it wasn't important.

Wilson, on the other hand, was looking a bit frazzled. None of the ducklings new it, of course, but Wilson and House weren't exactly on the best of terms right now. Cameron suspected House had actually taken her suggestion and begun torturing Wilson when he was bored. Chase and Foreman assumed pretty much the same. They couldn't understand why Wilson put up with it, although Cameron could sympathize. Once you let House in, he was tough to shake.

House took his time making his way into the hospital that morning. Truthfully, he was thrilled to be back at work, even clinic duty would be better than sitting around the apartment alone all day. Even Shark Week had brought him no joy this year. Wilson was so fed up with him by the time it started, that he refused to come over to watch with him.

Of course, he had no intention of letting anyone know he was happy to be back. In fact, he was more determined than ever to make sure everyone knew he was the same old House, cane or no. With the possible exception of Wilson, he intended to give everyone a welcome back snark, just to be on the safe side.

Funny thing about that Wilson, he'd been getting more and more edgy the longer House was home. In fact, just three or four days ago, when House had called him about getting a refill on his Vicodin prescription, Wilson had hesitated a good long time before agreeing. Something was going on there, and House didn't like it. He'd backed off the last few days, which was the only reason Wilson was even able to function at the hospital, but House was starting to get a bad feeling about this.

"Good morning, my minions" House announced as he entered the conference room.

"Morning?" Foreman scoffed, "It's nearly lunch time."

"Why the sad face?" House retorted. "Now that the big bad boss man is back, you're all afraid you won't be able to throw all those wild parties I keep hearing about from the nurses? Not to worry, as long as the food and booze are free, I'm there."

Chase groaned, and Cameron rolled her eyes. He was certainly in fine form this morning.

"So, any interesting cases?" House asked. Now that he was back, he was dying to get into something really bizarre.

"Don't you think you'd know if we had something?" Chase asked, irritated. He wasn't exactly thrilled to see House back. Of course, he hoped it meant no more 2am calls to check if he was sleeping, but it wasn't as if he'd actually missed him.

"Gosh, there's all sorts of fancy titles and letters after my name, but I don't think mind reader is among them." House replied, feigning stupidity.

Cameron let out a huff of exasperation. She really wasn't in the mood for this today. She'd spent the last few weeks trying to prepare herself for his return to work, mentally coaching herself to just let the sarcasm fly by her, and now, after her appointment this morning, she just didn't have the energy.

"Well, since we don't have any cases, I'm due to see…" Cameron stopped short. " uh, Dr. Mitchell in a few minutes." Dr. Mitchell was the head of the Immunobiology Research Department. It was perfectly sensible that she would be seeing him, except it was obvious to House that was not where she was headed. He turned to say something, but she was out the door before he had the chance.

"I think I'll go down to the clinic," House announced, and made his way out the door.

Chase and Foreman stared at each other incredulously. House, going to the clinic voluntarily?

Actually, he wasn't going to the clinic at all. He wanted to follow Cameron and see where she was really going. It wasn't like her to lie, and since he didn't have a case to solve, he wanted to see if he could make some sense of this little mystery.

He followed her as closely as he could without being seen, only to find her stepping into Dr. Wilson's office.

Curious, House thought.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

House waited quite a while outside Wilson's office. As he heard the door open, he backed down the hall slightly, not wanting to be seen right away. Cameron's face looked flushed, and she seemed a little jittery, almost …guilty? House stepped around the corner directly into her path.

"You look like someone who's trying not to get caught." House stated.

"House!" Cameron was startled. "What are you, following me now?"

"I don't like it when my ducklings lie to me." House said in slightly scolding voice.

"Not everything is your business!" Cameron spat, more vehemently than she had intended. She pushed him slightly to get past and hurried down the hall.

House's eyes followed her with interest, something was definitely going on, and he hated being left in the dark. He walked into Wilson' office without knocking.

"What's with Cameron?" House asked gruffly.

Wilson paused before turning to face his friend. He had a slightly guilty look on his face; he'd known it was only a matter of time before House started questioning him about this. He wouldn't tell him, of course, but he was uncomfortable about the whole situation.

"I don't know what you mean." Wilson answered, with as much innocence as he could muster.

"Don't give me that doe-eyed look. You two seem awfully chummy all of a sudden, that's certainly new and different." House commented.

"Does it seem that way to you?" Wilson asked, trying one of House's favorites tactics, turning the question back to him.

"I can't remember her ever spending 45 minutes in here with you before." House countered.

Wilson closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. There was only one way House was ever going to leave him alone about this, if he thought he'd figured out what was going on. Wilson knew he couldn't let that happen, Cameron had pleaded with him; she didn't want House to know about this at all. Wilson opened his eyes and gave House what he hoped was a convincing smirk.

"Jealous?" Wilson asked.

"What would make you say that?" House asked. He wasn't sure he liked where this was going. He knew Wilson was a flirt, but Cameron? Wilson wouldn't dare, even if he only suspected House would care.

"Oh, I don't know. I've noticed you staring at her from time to time. It just seemed to me like you might be jealous if another handsome, newly-single doctor started paying her some attention." Wilson tried as hard as he could not to look pained. He really didn't want to do this, not this way.

House was shocked. He couldn't believe Wilson would really… And Cameron? First Chase and now Wilson, he hadn't pegged her as that type of person. She seemed too sweet and naïve. He cocked his head to the side slightly, and gave Wilson a good hard look. He certainly looked guilty about something.

"So, you're really not going to tell me anything?" House questioned him.

"You're so brilliant. You can't put two and two together?" Wilson stood and left the office; he couldn't keep up the façade under House's stare. He could only hope he'd given Cameron enough time to figure out her own way to tell him.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Cameron sat alone in her office, trying to avoid House. She didn't want to see him, especially not after he'd caught her coming out of Wilson's office. She'd never thought she'd be doing this, and she hadn't been prepared for it in the least. She needed time to prepare herself for the onslaught of questions she knew would be coming.

Her pager went off, House wanted her in his office. She closed her eyes and sighed; it had started already. Wilson must have done as she'd asked. Cameron steeled herself for the interrogation, and headed into House's office.

"You and Wilson have a nice little chat this morning?" House asked. He

He watched her carefully, waiting for an answer.

"Lovely, thanks." Cameron replied. She determined the best way to keep him guessing was to give him as little information as possible.

"Good to know you two get along so well." House commented, trying to goad a response out of her.

"Yes, we get along just fine." Cameron answered. She thought he looked slightly annoyed. It was a similar expression to the one she'd seen on his face when he was having difficulty with a crossword puzzle.

"Discussing a case? Maybe I can help." House offered. It wasn't as subtle as he would have liked, but subtle didn't seem to be working this time. Usually it was so easy to get information out of Cameron, but not so now. Why? What was different about this?

"No, nothing about a case" she answered lightly, but let her eyes drop to the floor. It was killing her trying not to let anything slip. Especially since she'd really love for him to be the one…Stop it Allison, she commanded herself.

House noticed her eyes drop to the floor. He closed his eyes, and turned his head toward the window. He didn't want her to get a glimpse of the stunned look he couldn't keep off his face. She'd unknowingly given him the answer he'd been looking for.

"You're working my clinic hours this afternoon, better get down there, you're 15 minutes late." House didn't turn around, just waited to hear her leave. He reached into his jacket for his Vicodin; he shook out two, then one more for good measure, and swallowed them. He grabbed his tennis ball and began tossing it against the wall. He supposed he shouldn't be surprised, did he really think she would just pine away for him forever? Like he did for Stacy? Disgusted, he threw the tennis ball a little harder than intended, and knocked a picture off the wall.

"What was that?" Chase entered from the conference room, drawn by the noise. "You okay?"

"Fine." House answered. As Chase turned to leave the room, House called him back. "Chase! Have you noticed anything odd about Cameron lately?" House wondered how long this had been going on. Since he'd been shot?

"Well," Chase pondered the question for a minute, "She's been a little quieter than usual the last three or four days. Keeping to herself. Actually, she barely came out of her office at all the last two days. Except to talk to Dr. Wilson a couple of times."

House waived him away. Only a couple of days, maybe it wasn't too late to put a stop to this. As he got out of his chair, he paused. Why did he care? He shook his head; that didn't matter right now. He entered the hall to start looking for Wilson.

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House came across Wilson in the cafeteria, eating alone. House sat at the table and grabbed a container of pudding from Wilson's tray.

"So, how is she?" House asked in hushed voice, and raised his eyebrows.

"I don't know what you mean," Wilson returned, although of course he knew perfectly well what House meant.

"Oh, don't be modest. You and Cameron, I want details. Lots and lots of details. I bet she's a real animal in the sack." House said suggestively.

"House," Wilson whined, "Please don't do this."

"What, I'm curious?" House retorted. "She's a little younger than your usual conquest, Wilson. How are you managing to keep up with the little minx?"

"I'm not doing this with you, House." Wilson warned.

"No, you're doing it with her. Oh, come on." House complained. "You know I'd tell you all about it." His voice was teasing.

"House," Wilson said very slowly, "I can't talk to you about this."

House leaned in and cocked his head to the side. He searched Wilson's face before answering.

"You didn't say won't, you said can't." House mused. "Why can't you?"

"House, I can't talk to you, or anyone else, about this." Wilson knew he was letting Cameron down, but he just couldn't go on with this any longer. He saw the realization dawn on House's face.

"You're not sleeping with her." House said. "You're treating her."


	10. Chapter 10

This story is incredibly long, so I decided to combine a couple chapters at a time.

Chapter 10

House found Cameron in the lab. She was trying her best to keep busy; the clinic had been quiet, so she'd offered to review lab results for the clinic patients.

She could sense him the second he walked in the door. Crestfallen, she hung her head. This was exactly the scene she'd been trying to avoid. She could only hope that he'd try not to be a complete ass.

"Why did you go see Wilson before me?" House asked. It wasn't really how he'd intended to start, but somehow it was the first thing to come out of his mouth.

"Wilson's an oncologist. Who else would I go see?" Cameron replied. She looked into her microscope; she just wasn't able to face him yet.

"So, what are we dealing with?" House figured he'd better stick to the medicine. Lessen the chance of getting himself into trouble. And why did I say we, he wondered.

"I don't know what I'm dealing with yet. I found a lump, Wilson did a mammogram and he's scheduled me for a biopsy. It'll be a couple of days before I know anything." Cameron managed to get it all out without crying, but just barely.

House shuffled a little closer. She could feel him standing just behind her. As usual, she felt the hair on the back of her neck begin to rise. Even now, waiting to find out if she had breast cancer, he still had this effect on her.

"Malignant breast cancer in a woman your age is fairly rare." House said softly. He tried to sound reassuring.

"Uh-huh" Cameron said. She wasn't going to be able to hold back the tears much longer. Why didn't he just leave? He'd figured out his puzzle, he should be moving on to something else. "I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell Chase and Foreman. I don't think I can stand the whole sympathy thing for the next few days."

"No need to tell them unless there's something to tell." House agreed. He stood, not quite sure what was keeping him there. He just couldn't seem to walk away. He realized she'd never answered his first question. "Why did you go see Wilson before me?"

"I just, I…" Cameron began to cry softly, she could no longer hold it in. "I didn't want to open myself up to that kind of pain again."

House dropped his gaze to the floor. He understood. He'd done nothing the last year except give her every reason to expect he'd be a complete jerk. He'd tried as hard as he could to push as far away as possible. Why should she give him the chance to hurt her again? He turned to leave, but he could hear she was still crying.

He reached out and placed a hand on her shoulder. He could feel her beginning to sob. He turned her around in her chair, and pulled her into his chest. He placed his chin on the top of her head, and just let her cry. She cried for just a minute or two, and then pulled herself together. She took a deep breath and pulled away from him. She looked up at him, and gave a weak little smile.

House reached out his hand and wiped the tears from her cheek, then traced the outline of her jaw with his fingers. He cupped her face for a second, and then pulled his hand away very slowly. He turned and walked out of the room. He paused on the other side of the door to take two Vicodin, then made his way back to his office.

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Chapter 11

Early the next morning, House walked in the front door of the hospital. Cuddy walked by and stopped dead in her tracks.

"House, what are you doing here?" she asked, stunned.

"Um, I work here?" House snarked.

"I mean, what are you doing here now?" Cuddy replied. "Are you aware it's before 9am?"

"Really?" House said. He continued down the hall toward the elevators. "Wilson hasn't finished teaching me how to tell time yet."

"House, what's going on? You never come in early. You never come in on time." Cuddy remarked.

"I have something to do this morning," House replied, he took out his Vicodin bottle and shook out a pill, swallowed it and gave Cuddy an evil little grin.

"What could possibly be so important that you would be here before 9am?" Cuddy asked.

"Bubbles couldn't make it over to my place last night, but she promised to come by early this morning to make it up to me. Better not keep her waiting." House turned and got onto the elevator.

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House waited down the hall from Wilson's exam room. He didn't want to be seen. He'd been waiting longer than he expected, and was beginning to get annoyed, or nervous. He wasn't really sure which, but he didn't like it. He reached in his coat pocket and got himself an extra Vicodin.

"I'll have the test reviewed as quickly as possible, Allison. We should have the results early tomorrow." Wilson put his hand on Cameron's shoulder as he guided her out of the exam room. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Fine, just a little sore," she replied. "I've got to get down to House's office and start coffee and get through his mail. Thanks for getting me in so early, I just didn't want him around." Cameron smiled weakly at Wilson and walked off down the hall.

"So?" House asked from behind Wilson.

"Geez!" Wilson shouted. "I hate it when you do that. How can a guy with cane sneak up on people…" Wilson trailed off, realizing his mistake. "Damn, no cane. I guess I should get used to you sneaking up and scaring the crap out of me."

"You didn't answer the question." House said. He was a little wounded that Wilson had so easily forgotten he didn't need the cane.

"House, I just finished the biopsy. The sample hasn't even made it out of the room yet. And believe it or not, there is a procedure to this sort of thing. You know, science and all that stuff." Wilson started down the hall towards his office.

"Call me when you know something." House said, and started off towards the clinic.

"House, you know I can't do that. You'll have to wait for her to tell you." Wilson called after him.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 12

House entered the clinic and grabbed a chart. He didn't really want to be here, but for some reason this morning his Ipod and Gameboy just weren't holding his attention. What better way to kill a couple of hours than to look at tonsils? Besides, it would keep Cuddy off his back for a day anyway.

House entered an exam room to see a young woman, stroking the hair of a boy about 3 years old, he assumed her son.

"Mrs. Clark?" House asked. "And I presume this is Jared."

At hearing his name, the boy peeked open an eye and looked up at House. He closed his eyes again quickly, and covered his face.

"Okay, so we've got foot, ankle or leg pain. Did you want me to guess?" House asked the mother.

"No, I'm not sure which it is. He didn't want to come to see a doctor, so he won't tell me exactly where it hurts," the mother replied. She started to say something else, but House cut her off.

"Then how do you know it hurts?" House asked. "Are you psychic?"

"No, I know it hurts because he won't walk, stand up straight or put any weight on it. He's been lying down all morning. He never lies down. I'm not even certain he lies down in his sleep," the mother looked a little weary herself.

"Funny. I like it." House answered. "Okay, when did this start?"

"This morning, around 5am. He had just finished his first breakfast, when …"

"His first breakfast?" House interrupted. "You fee him breakfast more than once?"

"Well, if you got up a 4am every day, you'd want breakfast twice too."

"Probably right, good thing I never get up before 10." House replied. He'd been watching the little boy during the conversation. He obviously didn't like the doctor's office, he'd been hiding his face and trying to curl into a ball as soon as House entered the room. House caught him peeking a look between his fingers and made a face at him. The boy giggled a little, and then quickly covered his face again.

"Anyway," his mother continued, "I was trying to clean up his mess when he climbed up on top of the microwave cart and jumped off."

"Okay, let's take a look, shall we?" House wheeled his chair a little closer to the boy. "Jared, which let hurts?"

Jared pointed at his left leg, but refused to speak. He moved his arm away from his face only long enough to point to which leg. House reached over and lifted him up to a standing position, but held on to support him.

"Okay, I want you to try to stand up so you can tell me exactly where it hurts." House told him.

Jared put some weight on his leg, promptly crumpled up and began to whimper. He turned and looked at his mother, then squeezed his eyes shut very tight and said, "Foot."

"He speaks," House joked. He looked at Jared. "Thought maybe the cat got your tongue."

"We don't have a cat," Jared said very seriously. House chuckled. He helped Jared back down onto the exam table, and started checking out his foot. He suspected he might actually have broken a bone, which isn't easy to do at that age. Judging from the mother's comments about him not even being still when he slept, he had a feeling this guy could have managed it.

"I'm going to send him off to have an X-ray of that foot. He could have a fracture." House turned to the boy. "I gotta know. Why'd you jump off the microwave cart?"

"I wanted to fly like Buzz Lightyear, but my wings wouldn't come out." Jared answered.

"Well, that's because little boys wings don't grow in until they turn 12 or so," House said seriously, then winked at the boy's mother. "The clinic will call me when they have the X-ray results, and we'll take it from there." House left his instructions with the nurse and moved on to his next patient.

Just as House was finishing up with the last patient he intended to see that day, a radiology tech handed him the results of the little boy's X-ray. Sure enough, he'd broken a bone in his foot.

House entered the exam room and was quickly hushed by the boy's mother. He'd actually fallen asleep.

"God, don't wake him," she said. "This may be the first time he's napped during the day since he was about 10 months old."

"Sorry to disappoint you," House said, "but he'll have to go up to orthopedics for his cast."

"He broke his foot?" the mother asked. "How long will he have to keep the cast on for?"

"I'd guess about six weeks," House answered, the mother groaned. "Look on the bright side, it's six weeks he won't be climbing the microwave cart."

"Don't bet on it," the mother mumbled as House left the room. He snickered to himself, thanking the powers that be that it wasn't him.

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Chapter 13

House walked into the front doors of the hospital early the next morning. He suspected Cameron wouldn't be in a sharing mood, good news or bad, but that wasn't going to stop him from finding out her results.

Cuddy looked up from the reception desk, and pretended to swoon.

"My God, House, you're here before 9am two days in row! Did hell freeze over and I didn't get the memo?" she quipped.

"Good one. How long did it take you to think that one up?" House shot at her.

"I've been holding onto it for oh, three years or so. It took that long for the opportunity to use it." Cuddy retorted. House was making his way toward the elevator, and Cuddy hesitated whether she should follow him or not. She was still considering asking him about becoming a sperm donor; she couldn't seem to talk herself out of it. She was about to call him back when she noticed him reach into his pocket for his Vicodin.

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House lingered down the hall from Wilson's office. He hadn't seen Cameron yet, and didn't want to. He wasn't looking forward to a repeat of the scene in the lab. He still wasn't sure why he'd hugged her; it was so unlike him. She just looked so scared and vulnerable; he couldn't help himself. He'd told himself he was just being nice, figuring maybe he could score a little sympathy action, but he hadn't quite convinced himself yet. If that's all it was, why was he here again, at this ungodly hour, trying to find out about her results?

"Stalking me again?" Cameron asked from behind him.

House jumped guiltily. Caught, he thought. Now what? He turned and looked at her, but couldn't get an idea either way. Had she already seen Wilson?

"I haven't been in yet. I know that's why you're here. You could have just asked, I would have told you." Cameron said quietly. She was trying to be careful around him. After he'd held her in the lab, she was finding herself remembering how strong he felt, and how safe it was in his arms. The last thing she wanted was for him to know that.

House opened his mouth to let out one of his usual snipes, but then closed it again. He shook his head instead.

"Wasn't sure you'd be in a sharing mood," he answered.

"I'm supposed to meet Wilson now." Cameron stepped past him, and then turned back. "You coming?"

House followed Cameron the rest of the way down the hall to Wilson's office, and waited behind her while she knocked. Wilson called for her to come in. House stood in the doorway, keeping to himself a bit.

"Allison?" Wilson asked. He wasn't sure she really wanted House there, and he had no problem asking him to leave, even if she wouldn't.

"It's fine. He'll find out anyway. Might as well get it all over with at once." Cameron was bracing herself for bad news. She'd had an awful night, certain the tests would reveal she had cancer.

"House, come in and shut the door." Wilson instructed. House paused; shutting the door seemed like a bad sign. House closed the door, hesitated, and then sat down next to Cameron. She was very pale; she actually looked like she might faint. House reached over and took her hand in his. She glanced at him, surprised, but gave him a grateful smile.

"Well, I'm happy to report that you don't have cancer." Wilson said. Cameron let out a huge sigh of relief. "It's a fibroadenoma. You have nothing to worry about."

House squeezed Cameron's hand quickly before standing up. He turned his back while Wilson went into more detail with Cameron. He didn't want them to see the relief that he knew would be plain on his face. He hadn't allowed himself to think about what it would mean if the tests had shown some other result. As he heard Wilson and Cameron's conversation winding down, he turned back to face them.

Cameron stood, all the fear and worry House had seen earlier erased from her face. She looked at House expectantly.

"Seeing as you're fine, why don't you run down to the clinic like a good little duckling and cover my hours." House said. He knew it was callous, but he felt a strong need to put up a good front.

Cameron just stared, a hurt expression slowly coming over her face. Tears began to well up in her eyes, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She took a deep breath and walked past him out the door, closing it behind her.

Once she was out in the hall, she covered her face with her hands. What an impossible man, she thought. One minute he's holding my hand, and the next he's ordering me to cover his clinic duty, probably so he can go play video games. Cameron shook her head, angry with herself for letting him get to her again. Screw him, she thought, let Cuddy track him down for clinic duty. She wasn't going to cover for him today.

In Wilson's office, House was looking at the floor. He wasn't proud of himself for what he'd just done, but he really felt it was for the best.

"Wow, House. You managed to act like a decent human being for a total of about five minutes in the last two days. I hope you didn't hurt yourself." Wilson's voiced dripped with sarcasm. Even he was surprised how quickly House had returned to his usual self.

"Oh give it up, she's fine." House said. He didn't look at Wilson, though.

"You're such an idiot." Wilson said. "Why do you keep doing this to her? Are you just playing some sick little game? If so, it's really not funny. You care about her; I know you do. Nobody's asking you to marry her for crying out loud, but would it really kill you to admit you like her?"

"You don't know what you're talking about," House replied. He didn't want to get into this with Wilson. They knew each other too well, and this was something House knew he wouldn't be able to hide from his friend.

"Everybody lies, House, remember? Even the great Gregory House. You think because you refuse to answer the question, you're not lying. What about the lies you're telling yourself?" Wilson pushed, harder than he would normally, but he had his reasons.

House didn't respond, he simply turned and walked out the door, reaching for his Vicodin.

Minutes later, Cuddy poked her head into Wilson's office.

"Do you have a minute?" she asked. "I need to talk to you about something."


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 14

House was hiding out in his office, listening to his Ipod. It was not the most original hiding place certainly, but as good as any. He knew Cuddy would hunt him down anywhere, even the men's room and sometimes the best place to hide something was right under a person's nose. Besides, Cameron was covering his clinic hours, so he was free and clear, unless a new case came in.

Cuddy barged into his office mere moments later, and ripped the earphones off him. She yanked so hard, the Ipod slipped out his pocket and into her waiting hands.

"Clinic, now!" She barked.

"Damn Cuddy, give it back. Cameron's covering the clinic today." He reached his hand out for his Ipod.

"No, Dr. Cameron isn't in the clinic. And you can have this back after you've finished all six of your hours." She turned and walked out of the office.

"Six!" House shouted, following after her. "I only owe you four hours."

"You get an extra two for trying to dodge clinic duty on your second day back to work." Cuddy gave him a falsely sweet smile and slipped away.

House grimaced, treated himself to a Vicodin and went back down to the clinic.

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Six mind-numbing hours later, he returned to his office to find Cameron sitting at his desk checking his mail.

"You were supposed to cover my clinic duty today," he griped at her.

"Forgive me, it must have slipped my mind," she replied. She purposely kept her voice low and calm.

House opened his mouth, a really nasty comment had come to mind, but he stopped short. Maybe Wilson was right, he was being a little hard on her. It must have been a tough few days; he supposed it wouldn't kill him to cut her a break.

"Don't let it happen again," was all he said.

Just then Cuddy came into the office and laid a file on his desk.

"You have a new case. Shockingly, this patient requested you." Cuddy smirked; she knew that wouldn't be enough for House, but this case was a little different. Cuddy hoped this would be the distraction he'd been looking for. "I've had her transferred upstairs for you."

"There's nothing wrong with this woman," House said. "Her medical records are so clear its actually boring."

"Those are her previous medical records," Cuddy replied. "She brought them with her when she came into the ER."

"She carries her medical records around with her?" Cameron asked. That didn't make any sense. Why would an obviously healthy person carry around their medical records?

"New case?" Foreman asked as he and Chase entered House's office.

"The patient walked into the ER about two hours ago. She was perfectly fine; in fact she drove herself here. She told the nurse in admitting that she was about to become very ill."

"About to?" House asked.

"Yes. She told the nurse she was going to have a mysterious and life threatening illness. Naturally, the nurse assumed she needed a psych evaluation. The nurse put her in a room, and while waiting for her consult, the patient collapsed. You've seen her records, she clean as a whistle." Cuddy hadn't told them everything, yet. She was holding something back, House could tell. Not even this story was enough to make him take the case.

"Why did she request me?" House asked.

"Well, she had a vision that she was going to become ill. She came here because she saw the hospital logo." Cuddy paused. "She's a psychic. The ER had to administer a mild sedative; she's confused and keeps trying to pull out her IV to go home. While the nurses were trying to ask her some questions she wrote this."

Cuddy held out one last piece of paper; the shaky letters read: _ house can save me_.

House and the ducklings entered the conference room, and House began writing symptoms on the whiteboard.

30-Year-Old Female

Psychic Visions

Fever

Loss of Consciousness

Sensitivity to Light

Neck Pain

"You're including her vision as a symptom?" Chase asked.

"It could be indicative of a neurological disorder," Foreman suggested. "Auditory or visual hallucinations could be misinterpreted as a vision by an otherwise healthy person."

"Healthy people don't see things that aren't really there, last time I checked," House replied. "Cameron, do a little digging into this patient's history. Check with other local hospitals. Anybody who carries around a set of perfect medical records like this is probably hiding something. Chase, get an LP, the whiteboard is practically screaming meningitis at me. Foreman, do a neurological exam to see if our patient is really seeing things, or just plain nuts."

Cameron went to her computer and began crosschecking the patient with other hospitals. House walked back into his office and took out his Gameboy. Cameron came in after him a short while later.

"She's had no admissions or treatments from any hospital in New Jersey or New York in at least five years. The only thing recent thing I could find is a visit to her primary care doctor for a cut to her finger, no stitches." Cameron reported. "You don't believe she really had a vision."

"Of course, not. All that psychic nonsense is just a bunch of crap. You don't believe in that sort of stuff, do you?" He asked because he wasn't really sure of her answer. She was a good enough doctor, but he thought she was still a little naïve, maybe naïve enough to believe in something so ridiculous.

"I don't believe it or disbelieve it," she answered. "The average human only uses about 10 of their brain, its possible that some people have abilities beyond what we consider normal because we don't really know what the rest of the brain can do."

"I bet you still believe in Santa and the Easter Bunny, too," House snarked.

"No," she replied. "I just don't start off immediately by assuming every patient is either lying, crazy or stupid."

"You should, most of them are one or another. Some of them are all three, why do you think I try to avoid the clinic so much?" House didn't look back up from his game; until they got some test results back there was really nothing else to do but wait.

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"The LP is positive for meningitis," Chase announced as he flung the test results on House's desk. "Why are we even on this case, a med student could have diagnosed the meningitis."

"Yes, but could a med student explain how she got meningitis? Or why her meningitis is presenting with hallucinations?" House shot back. This was exactly the type of case he'd been hoping for when he came back.

"House, what difference does it make how she got it?" Foreman asked. He didn't really see the point in all this. "It's easily treatable, especially for an otherwise healthy person, which this patient is."

"Otherwise healthy, except for the hallucinations. Am I the only one who heard that part of the differential?" House snarked. "The patient came in to the hospital expecting to get sick," House continued. "Doesn't that sound odd to you? Maybe she infected herself intentionally. I ordered a psychiatric consult, and Foreman I want an MRI, maybe there's a tumor that's causing these hallucinations of hers."

"Now you think she has Munchausen Syndrome? Or a tumor? House, maybe she just felt sick and came to the hospital. I hear people do that sometimes." Cameron was feeling a little snippy. It had been a long day; she was tired and wanted to go home. The patient had meningitis, they could cure her easily; why was House torturing them with this?

House glanced at Cameron. She must be tired, he thought, that sounded like something I would say.

"Maybe you're just so cynical and closed-minded, that you can't even accept the possibility that the patient might have had a vision." Cameron said. "Have you even spoken to her?"

"What?" House asked, incredulously. "Me, speak to a patient?"

Finally Cameron had enough. She stood up and straightened her back. She wasn't going to stay here all night just because House felt like complicating an incredibly easy case.

"I'm going home," she said. "I'm not staying here all night and performing unnecessary tests on a patient just so you can try to prove that she's not psychic. Believe it or don't believe it, I don't care. But I don't have to stay here for this." She turned and walked out. She hoped Foreman would back her up. She knew they hadn't been getting along that well lately, but usually he was the one pushing House. Maybe he would be pleased to see someone else show him a little backbone.

House stared after her in disbelief. Chase looked stunned, he couldn't believe Cameron would talk to House like that; he knew he never could. Foreman shook his head, but went to do the MRI anyway. Chase left to observe the patient during her psych consult.

House was left sitting alone in his office to ponder over Cameron's reaction. Had he really made her that angry this morning? Or was it something else? Maybe she was finally developing the confidence in herself to stand up to him when she thought his diagnosis was wrong. It was one of the last things she needed to learn to become a really great doctor. If she could only get control of her emotions, and her need to connect with all her patients, she'd be ready to move on at the end of her fellowship. House swallowed. Secretly, even secretly from himself, he hoped that wasn't the case. He wasn't ready for her to go yet.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 16

After Chase reported back to him that her psych evaluation revealed nothing unusual, and Foreman reported that the MRI showed no sign of any tumors, House sent them both home. He looked in his bag for his Ipod, he needed some music to help him think. Then he remembered that Cuddy had taken it before he went to the clinic that morning, and hadn't returned it. He glanced at this watch, 8:15pm. Well, she'd already gone home.

House walked into Cameron's small office, and began rummaging through her desk. He hoped she hadn't brought it home with her. Jackpot, he thought, as he discovered her Ipod in the middle drawer. Now he could only hope that her taste in music wasn't as bland as her work wardrobe. He went back into his office and lay on the couch. He turned the Ipod on and began scrolling through Cameron's music. He was surprised; she actually had some good stuff here. It was kind of a weird mix though. Toby Keith, Eminem, Etta James (that one really surprised House), Pink Floyd; he even found a play list of Gregorian chanting. Settling down, he chose Pink Floyd's The Wall and closed his eyes.

After about an hour, House got up and went to the patient's room. She was asleep. He checked her chart, and saw she was responding well to the meds. All of her symptoms had lessened, in fact. Strange, he thought. Whatever was causing her hallucinations wasn't the meningitis; it should be rearing its head up again now that the rest of her symptoms were in check.

Instinctively, he reached for his cane to bang against the side of the bed to wake the patient. He realized he'd need a new tactic to wake his patients up now that he couldn't easily make such an awful racket. He glanced around and decided just for once, it wouldn't hurt to just wake her up like a normal person.

"Hey, wake up, um," he reached for her chart, "Joetta, wake up." House leaned forward and shook her arm.

"Dr. House?" she asked him groggily.

"That's right. I've been overseeing your case. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?" She motioned for him to go ahead. "This, uh, vision that you had, have you ever had one like it before?"

"Of course," she replied. "I've them since I was a girl. But that's not really what you want to know."

"It's not?" House asked. Now he was intrigued. Normally his patients had no idea what he was getting at with his questions. It was just his way of leading them around to something they didn't want to tell him. "What do you think I want to know?"

"You want to know if I'm crazy, or I'm hallucinating or on drugs." House nodded. "I'm not surprised. That's the same reaction I've gotten from doctor's my whole life. Men and women of science don't want to believe in my abilities because they think its mystical, or spiritual or something. They want proof, facts, tests that can them it's real. Test me if you like, I'm happy to convince one person at a time."

House pondered this for a moment. Maybe Cameron had been right. Maybe this woman felt sick, but wasn't sure what was wrong, and remembered seeing the hospital logo somewhere.

"That wouldn't explain how I knew 'house would save me'," Joetta said softly. "Don't worry," she laughed at House's expression, "I can't read your mind or anything; I've just been through this with so many other people before. You're thinking of some perfectly logical explanation for how I saw the things I saw. And I'm sure you could be right. But you aren't. That's not easy for you, is it?" House was amazed, how could this woman, who he'd never met, peg him with such deadly accuracy? "You like being the smartest one, always being the one to figure things out. It's driving you crazy that you can't solve me."

She reached out her hand and touched House's arm. She closed her eyes; a small frown crossed her face. She seemed to be concentrating very hard; then slowly a smile played across her lips. She let go of House, opened her eyes and looked up at him.

"You're in for a rough road these next few months. It's going to be okay in the end though. You stick with that young woman, and it will all work out." Joetta smiled at him.

"I'll have you discharged in the morning." House said. He turned and went back to his office. He gathered up his things, slipped Cameron's Ipod in his pocket, put on the headphones and started home.

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As House walked toward his office the next morning, he saw Cameron was waiting for him. He prepared himself for some long, sappy apology about how she'd had such a hard day and was tired. It was so typically Cameron.

"Good morning, Dr. Cameron. How nice of you to decide to grace us with your presence." House was hoping maybe he could avoid this whole emotional moment she had planned. Maybe some biting sarcasm would scare her away.

"Did you take my Ipod out of my desk last night?" she asked. House turned and looked at her; she didn't look apologetic at all. In fact, she looked pretty annoyed.

"What?"

"My Ipod. I left it in my desk drawer last night; it's not there. Did you take it?" Cameron was really annoyed now. It was like he was being intentionally dense.

Actually, he was just stunned that after she threw a fit last night and stormed out in front of everyone, she was angry with him. It was so out of character for her. He thought for a minute about what Wilson and his last patient had said. He decided he wanted to test the waters a little, and see where it might take him.

"Sorry," he said. "Cuddy took mine yesterday before clinic and forgot to give it back. I can't think straight without my music, and I needed to go over some things on the case last night." He hoped a simple explanation, without any snide comments, would throw her off guard a little.

"Oh," she said. "Fine. Could I have it back please?" She extended her hand to him.

He unzipped his bag and took her Ipod out. Instead of simply handing it to her, he turned around, aiming for her outstretched hand so that it grazed across his chest lightly. With one hand he held her arm at the elbow, and with the other he pressed the Ipod into her palm, but didn't let go.

"You have interesting taste in music," he said quietly. "I think we may even have some of the same songs. Thanks." House looked directly at her. She hadn't moved at all, in fact it looked like she was holding her breath.

Cameron barely heard anything he said. As soon as her hand had brushed across his chest, she'd stopped breathing. He held her arm lightly, and she could feel a blush creeping into her face. She looked up, and his stunning blue eyes were staring directly into her own.

"You're welcome," she managed to get out. She just couldn't break away from his gaze. They stood, staring into each other's eyes. Cameron realized she was forgetting to breathe again. How long could they go on staring at each other like this? She was starting to feel a little lightheaded; she longed to reach her hand up and feel the stubble on his cheeks. The blush came back again, but she still couldn't stop staring.

House couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. He could tell she felt something; she kept holding her breath. House felt his pulse begin to quicken. He was tempted to pull her into him, but managed to control himself. The longer they stared, however, the harder it became. Just when he thought he really couldn't stop himself any longer, a noise from the conference room startled them both. Cameron's eyes darted in the other direction; House released her arm, took a deep breath and turned around.

As Chase and Foreman chatted and got coffee, Cameron turned to join them. She walked slowly, hoping the blush would fade from her cheeks. She didn't know what just happened, but she didn't want the boys getting any ideas.

"Cameron," House called as she put her hand on the conference room door. She turned around. "Gregorian chanting?" House made a face.

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When Cameron entered the conference room, she was surprised to see such grim looks from Chase and Foreman. She'd checked when she came in this morning, and had seen that House had already given orders to have their patient discharged. Were they upset that she had left last night?

Before she could ask, House entered the conference room from his office. He too, noticed Foreman and Chase's expressions.

"What's wrong, boys?" House asked. "Somebody run over your puppy?" House made a sad face and pretended to wipe away a tear.

"Joetta Reynolds collapsed this morning after we discharged her. She didn't even make it to her car." Foreman said. "She woke up and said she'd had another vision, but this time it was followed by a severe headache and loss of vision in her right eye. That's probably when she collapsed; she couldn't remember anything after the pain. She's been slipping in and out of consciousness ever since."

House grabbed his marker and went to the whiteboard.

Visual hallucinations

Severe headache

Right side blindness

Loss of consciousness

"Okay, kiddos, let's hear some suggestions." House turned to face the group.

After several suggestions from the ducklings, House sent them off to perform the new round of tests. He walked back to his office for his Ipod, when he realized he'd still never gotten in back from Cuddy. He walked out of his office and towards the elevators.

When House stepped out of the elevator door downstairs, he saw that Cuddy was in the clinic. He groaned. Stepping into the clinic meant being harassed into seeing patients. Was he really that desperate for his Ipod? As he stood debating, Cuddy looked up and noticed him in the hall.

"Dr. House," she said as she came through the clinic doors. "How wonderful that you've come down to the clinic voluntarily." Her voice was sincere, but her face couldn't quite pull it off.

"Actually, Cuddy, I have a patient. I could stay here and wipe noses, but I'm afraid the witchy psychic upstairs might put a curse on me if I'm not giving her my full attention." House turned to walk away, hoping he'd be able to outrun her now that he didn't need the cane.

"House!" Cuddy called. "If you seriously have a patient, the clinic will wait. It's slow today. But I thought you discharged Ms. Reynolds."

"I did." House turned back to Cuddy. "I guess she missed me. You know how that is." House was surprised Cuddy didn't know his patient had been brought back in; she was usually very aware of what was going on in his department.

"Right. The only reason I still work here is so I can see your shining face every day." Cuddy walked toward her office. "I have something for you," she said to House over he shoulder as she entered her office and sat behind the desk.

"If it's flavored massage oil, I'll lock the door behind me," House quipped. Cuddy just rolled her eyes. Why did she think the ketamine would change him? It only eliminated his leg pain. He was still House.

Cuddy reached into her top drawer and took out House's Ipod. She handed it to him, and picked up a pile of paperwork. House mumbled something that might have been thanks, then turned and walked to the door.

"House," Cuddy said. "Have spoken to Wilson today?"

"No," House replied. "My patient collapsed before I even got it, I haven't seen him yet. Why?"

"No reason," Cuddy said. "He mentioned to me at a board meeting that you two haven't been getting along so well. I was just wondering if you boys have patched things up?"

House looked at her. She was lying, and he knew it. He just didn't know why. Actually, he hadn't talked to Wilson yesterday either, it was almost like Wilson was avoiding him. House was about to question Cuddy when his pager went off.

"People dying, gotta run," House said and left the office. He walked past the elevator and took the stairs. He almost smiled when he reached the top; his leg was just the slightest bit sore, hardly even noticeable.

House walked into the conference room, where the ducklings were now poring over the patient's medical files.

"You paged me to watch the three of you read?" House said. All three jumped, startled. He did have the most unnerving habit of sneaking up on people.

"She's experiencing tremors and aphasia," Foreman reported. "And she's barely able to maintain consciousness for more than a minute or two. When she is conscious, she's complaining of severe head pain."

"What did the tests show?" House asked, while writing the new symptoms on the whiteboard.

"Nothing they haven't shown before. Everything looks perfectly normal, except for the dying woman," Cameron said. House, along with Chase and Foreman, turned to look at her in surprise. It was not a typical Cameron comment.

"I think House is beginning to rub off on you, Cameron," Chase said. He looked at her with real concern; if she couldn't be with him, she was going to try to be like him?

"I think if any rubbing off was going on, I'd be aware of it, Chase. Can we stick to the patient?" House retorted.

"It has to be a brain tumor," Foreman said. "The symptoms are classic."

"Find me a tumor then," House said.

"Her MRI was clean. There's nothing there." Chase reminded them.

"Fine, repeat the MRI, this time with contrast. Foreman, I want a really good look at the optic chiasm. Chase, check her vitals and give her whatever sedative won't put her in a coma." Foreman and Chase left the room, while Cameron sat and waited for some instructions.

"What?" House said, as he could feel her staring at him.

"That's it? No snide comment, no instructions, you're done?" Cameron was surprised. Whenever a patient was taking an unexpected turn, House always wanted to be alone. Sometimes she suspected he gave them tests to run just to get them out of his office.

"I want you to call her primary care physician and go over everything in that file. Nobody is that healthy, it's not natural." House walked into his office and lay down on the couch with his Ipod.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 17

Cameron hung up the phone, and sat back in her chair. She scribbled a few more notes in the file in her hands, and then began flipping the pages. She paused at a particular page, how could they have missed this before? She walked into House's office and began speaking, before she realized he couldn't hear her. She reached down and pulled the earphones out, and then waited for the rage. Nothing. She leaned closer and saw that he was sleeping. She smiled. He looked so peaceful in his sleep. It was the only time he looked as though happiness was possible. She hated to wake him, but the patient came first.

"House," she said, shaking his arm. "House, wake up."

"Not now, I'm with Cameron," House mumbled. Cameron grinned, was he dreaming?

"What are you doing?" She asked softly. House mumbled something that made Cameron blush wildly. He must be teasing her, she thought. She couldn't believe House would be having that kind of dream about her. He tried so hard to make it clear he didn't like her at all. Maybe too hard? Cameron wondered.

"House," she said louder. "Wake up, I have news about our patient."

House jerked awake, and looked up. He saw the blush fading from Cameron's cheeks, and suddenly realized what he had been dreaming about. Had he talked in his sleep?

"You were right," Cameron said. "Her primary care doctor said when she came in for her last exam she asked about a referral to an ophthalmologist. She was complaining about her eyes getting tired and headaches. She thought it was because she needed glasses. She has an appointment scheduled next week."

"Good. That means we're on the right track." House replied. "Go and ask Wilson to take a look at her MRI, as soon as Foreman gets back." Cameron left the room, and House closed his eyes. If he was lucky, maybe he'd get a chance to finish that dream.

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Foreman and Chase came into House's office and put the MRI pictures on the screen. Closely following were Cameron and Wilson, chatting about how she was feeling. House got up and stood back, positioning himself so that he was standing right behind Cameron and had to lean slightly over her to look at the MRI. He noticed a slightly fruity scent in her hair, and took a deep breath.

Cameron, although trying hard to examine the MRI results, was having a hard time concentrating. She could feel House leaning over her; she could barely feel his breath on her ear, but it was enough to raise the hairs on the back of her neck and threaten to send a blush to her cheeks. She shook her head to try to clear it, and noticed a lock of her hair had rested on House's shoulder. Her head cleared, for the moment, she pointed to an area near the optic chiasm.

"What's that?" Cameron asked, hoping her voice sounded normal.

"You mean, what's this?" House said, as he took Cameron's pointing hand in his and moved it up just slightly. Her fingertip rested on an extremely thin line that was crossing over the optic nerve.

"And this." Chase pointed at another similar line, shown at a different angle than the first.

"That's your tumor," Wilson said. "It's extremely rare, but occasionally a tumor can form into strands, or tendrils, instead of the typical solid mass. Located in this area, its no wonder she's been having visions and going blind."

House and Cameron barely heard anything Wilson was saying. Cameron had lowered her hand, but House hadn't let go. Wilson turned, expecting an answer, and noticed how close the two were standing. He glanced down to see House holding Cameron's hand. He was astonished, and quickly turned his head so House wouldn't see that he'd been caught. This was exactly what House needed, but the last thing he'd want would be an audience. He could ask him about it later, without the boys around.

"House?" Chase asked. He turned and also saw House's hand still resting on Cameron's. He looked away quickly also, but for different reasons. He didn't want to see Cameron and House together. He knew he had been the one to tell Cameron that they shouldn't see each other again after that night, but that didn't mean he wanted to see her with someone else. And of all people, House?

"Right. Wilson, do whatever it is you need to do to confirm the diagnosis, and we'll transfer the patient to oncology for treatment. Foreman, Chase, go talk to the patient and explain what's going on, let her know about the transfer." Foreman nodded and left the room, unaware of anything. Chase left more slowly, glancing back at Cameron before he finally walked through the door. Wilson also slipped out; he hoped to give House a moment alone with Cameron.

Cameron, however, was trying to get out of the office as quickly as possible. She was confused, and didn't want House to have the opportunity to make it worse. She knew he was doing this intentionally, she just didn't know what his intentions were. Until she did, she didn't want him to know it was working.

She had nearly made it out of the room, when she felt a hand on her shoulder. Her breath caught in her throat, making an audible hitching noise. She turned and looked up into those blue eyes, and forgot all about not letting him know it was working. She couldn't have masked the look on her face with ten minutes to practice, doing it in an instant wasn't possible.

House looked down at her. Her face was an open book, and he could see that she clearly still had feelings for him. It was obvious she was attracted to him; he could feel that from her anytime he had an excuse for the two of them to touch. But was it anything more than a physical attraction? He needed to know before he went any further with this.

As he opened his mouth to speak, Wilson came back into the room. When he opened the door, both House and Cameron looked up. With eye contact broken, Cameron took the opportunity to exit through the conference room door, without giving House a chance to question her about anything.

"Got time for lunch?" Wilson asked. He knew his friend was annoyed at being interrupted; he figured the best way to get him over that was to offer him free food. He wasn't wrong; House nodded his assent, took two Vicodin and the two went to the cafeteria together. Wilson wanted to know what was going on with House and Cameron, and he figured he'd better get the scoop before Cuddy forced the meeting she'd been hinting at. After that meeting, he wasn't sure he'd still have a friend in Greg House.

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House loaded up his cafeteria tray with more food than it would seem possible for one man to eat. Wilson said not a word. He wanted information, and in order to get that, he needed to stay on House's good side. Well, there really wasn't a good side, but he needed to stay off the shit list. Wilson paid for their meals, and the two sat at a table in the corner.

"You want something," House said, as he began eating.

"Why do you say that?" Wilson asked.

"You never offer to buy me lunch. The only possible reason is because you want something. Did your new girlfriend throw you out? Need a place to stay?" House was mumbling slightly, as he hadn't really paused in his eating while he said all this.

"No, I don't need a place to stay. But you're right," Wilson smirked at House's 'duh' face, "I do want something. What's going on with you and Cameron?"

"What are you talking about?" House asked. He was watching Wilson out of the corner of his eye, but not lifting his head from his food.

"I saw you holding her hand. I don't think the boys noticed, but I'd have to be blind to miss the way you were looking at her. And the way you two were staring at each other when I came in the office? Come on, you're seriously going to tell me nothing was going on?" Wilson looked intently at House.

"She was having trouble with her contact, she asked me to see if I could see it," House said, still without looking up.

"Cameron doesn't wear contacts. And you were holding her hand because..?" Wilson let the question trail off.

House sighed and shifted his weight in his chair. He turned his head and stared at the wall. He could feel Wilson staring at the back of his head. Resignedly, he turned around to face his friend.

"Oh my God, you do like her." Wilson gushed. One look at his face was all Wilson had needed. "I knew it, I knew it!"

"Geez, Wilson, you're such a girl. Hey, maybe you could pass her a note in study hall and ask her if she likes me back," House snarked. He turned back to eat the rest of his lunch, but he just wasn't hungry. He pushed the tray away, disgusted with himself for letting Wilson trap him so easily.

"House, don't be such a jackass. You like her; she likes you, what's the problem? Is it Stacy?" Wilson couldn't believe House would let Cameron get away so easily. He knew his friend preferred misery to happiness, but this was crazy.

"She liked me," House corrected. "That was a year ago. I have no idea how she feels now, and I'm not going to ask."

"Then what are you doing?" Wilson asked. "House, I know you've been bored, but playing with her like that is just plain wrong."

"You're hardly the one to be passing moral judgments, Wilson. How many wives have you cheated on now, three, isn't it?" House shot at him.

"We're not talking about me, we're talking about you and what you're doing to Cameron. House, you already hurt her once, do you really want to do that again? She may like, you. Hell, she may even love you. But if you play with her emotions and then shut her out like you did last year, she'll leave. And then you'll never know." Wilson hoped House was listening.

"Do you really think she'd leave?" House asked.

"Yes, I do. For the same reason you sent Stacy away. Could you have lived with having to see her everyday, knowing she would never tell Mark about you? Knowing that you couldn't have her? Knowing that you'd only end up hurting more?" Wilson knew House knew all these things, but the man had a blind spot when it came to the truth about himself big enough to drive a truck through.

"I don't want her to leave," House admitted.

"I'm not suggesting you propose. Just ask her out for a beer. Take her to a ball game, or a tractor pull for Pete's sake. Maybe you should try being friends with her. It might be worth it." Wilson had ulterior motives for wanting House to befriend Cameron, but he wasn't going to let on. If he could get the two of them on the right track, things might not be so bad for his friend later on.

House said nothing in reply. He just sat, thinking to himself. He could do that. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have another friend. And really, Cameron was so much prettier than Wilson.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 18

House waited in his office. He'd paged Cameron, and it would only be a minute before she responded. He was fidgety, pacing, what the hell was wrong with him? I'm nervous, he thought. He shook his head and gave himself a smirk. Cameron entered the room behind him.

"House, you needed me?" Cameron asked. She couldn't imagine why, they had no patients now that Jota Reynolds was being transferred to oncology.

"Yup. Let's go." House grabbed his jacket and walked out of the office. He didn't look back, just hoped that Cameron would follow him.

"House? Go where?" Cameron followed, bewildered. House was pushing the button for the elevator.

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you," House said mysteriously. He winked at her and stepped into the elevator. "You coming?"

Cameron hesitated for only a second, and then joined him in the elevator. He carefully avoided her gaze, so Cameron gave up and just stood quietly. The elevator doors opened and House began walking toward the exit. Cameron followed slightly behind him, still not sure what he was doing.

House began to put on his jacket, and then looked back at Cameron. He realized she wasn't wearing a jacket, and it would be chilly on the bike. He paused for her to catch up, and then placed the jacket around her shoulders.

"You'll need this," House said, letting his hands trail down her arms. He continued walking toward his motorcycle. He turned to see that Cameron had stopped. "Come on, I don't bite." He grinned. "Well, not unless you ask really nicely."

Cameron walked slowly to him; House held out his helmet and she put it on. She waited for him to climb onto the bike, and then she climbed on behind him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, and squeezed her eyes shut as he took off.

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After they had been seated for a few minutes, House turned to look at Cameron. She was staring at him. In fact, she had been staring at him since they'd arrived.

"I feel a little overdressed," Cameron remarked. She glanced at the crowd around them. She supposed she shouldn't be surprised, the man was full of mystery, but this seemed like such an un-House place to be.

"I don't think anyone will notice," House replied. He munched on an extremely large soft pretzel and looked around. He hadn't been here in years, since before he was a teenager, certainly.

"And what is it we're doing here?" Cameron asked. "Are you telling me you just happened to have these tickets, and you and Wilson were planning a nice family outing?"

"Why not?" House asked, innocently. Cameron didn't look like she was buying it. "Okay, there's really only one act I'm interested in, but I figured the rest of it wouldn't kill me. Wilson was supposed to come with me but today he said something about getting a piece of a..uh," House caught the look on Cameron's face and stuttered, "furniture delivered."

Cameron still thought he was lying, but she had to give him credit, it was plausible at least. She just shook her head and looked around. She took a bite of the pretzel House had bought her and smiled. She hadn't been here in years, probably not since she was a teenager.

"So what was the one act you wanted to see?" Cameron asked House.

"You'll know it when you see it," House replied. Just then, the house lights dimmed and the stage lights came up full. House and Cameron both sat up a little straighter in their seats to make sure they didn't miss anything. As the music began, Cameron smiled again and turned to House to find he was smiling too. She looked away; she knew if she caught him smiling, he make some snarky comment and ruin everything. Better to just let him have some fun.

The show had nearly ended, and Cameron had to yet to anything she thought would lure House out into a crowd like this one. Of course, she loved the acrobats and elephants, and especially the horses. But, not even the Human Cannonball or the sword swallower had seemed to impress House.

As the final act was announced, Cameron smirked. This was what House had been waiting to see. She peeked at him out of the corner of her eye; he was grinning like a little boy, and he looked so adorable. He leaned forward in his seat, his eyes glued to the center ring. They watched as a large, round steel cage was lowered into the center of the ring, and four motorcyclists began to circle it. Cameron looked at House in disbelief.

"Are all those guys going to ride around in that steel cage?" Cameron asked.

"Yup." House answered. He tore his eyes away from the motorcycles to look at Cameron. Her eyes were dancing with anticipation, but House could see she was already gripping the arms of her seat and squirming a bit.

As the motorcyclists entered the steel cage, Cameron grabbed House's arm. She could barely stand to watch. How could they manage it without crashing? When the cyclists slowed down, she relaxed her grip on House's arm, only to tighten it again as she realized they had only stopped to allow an extra three riders to enter the cage! She looked at House stunned.

"No way!" She shouted. As the cyclists revved up their engines and began to ride, Cameron turned her head into House's shoulder, she couldn't watch. Of course she kept peeking, and then turning back and burying her head in House's shoulder again. When the engines finally stopped, and the crowd burst into cheering and applause, Cameron released House's arm and sat back in her own seat.

"You're such a girl," House snarked. Secretly, he'd enjoyed every minute of Cameron's head on his shoulder, her arms wrapped around his own. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had so much fun. But, he didn't want to rush things. Friends first, he reminded himself.

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House had been a little afraid that things between he and Cameron would be weird at work after their trip to the circus, but so far everything seemed perfectly normal. They had no case at the moment, so she had gone to the lab to review tests and results for clinic patients. Foreman and Chase were arguing about a basketball game they'd both seen on TV the night before; House was watching General Hospital with coma guy.

Wilson walked into the small room and pulled up a chair. He waited patiently until a commercial break started, and then pounced.

"So, where were you last night?" Wilson asked.

House rolled his eyes. He'd hoped no one had seen him leaving with Cameron, but he suspected after lunch yesterday that Wilson was keeping an eye on him.

"I don't kiss and tell," House replied. He kept his eyes on the TV, hoping to discourage Wilson from asking any more questions.

"You kissed her?" Wilson asked, surprised. "Already, what happened to being friends first?"

"You're so gullible. If I kissed her, do you think I'd be in here with the vegetable watching soaps? We'd be in the janitor's closet, like any other horny couple trying not to get caught at work." House didn't want to talk about this. He hated talking about this stuff. What ever happened to actions speak louder than words, he wondered to himself.

"So, where did you take her?" Wilson asked.

"You're really not going to leave me alone about this, are you?" House asked, looking at his friend with pleading eyes. "Fine," House said, sighing and rolling his eyes. "We went to the circus. Okay? Elephants, acrobats, three rings, yada, yada, yada. Cool motorcyclists though. The crammed seven of them into a steel sphere. I thought Cameron might wet herself. She couldn't even watch."

"I'm glad you had a good time." Wilson said, relieved. He'd wanted House to get friendly with Cameron, but he was really afraid he'd blow it. "It'll be good for you to have another friend."

"Why, you going somewhere?" House asked, suspiciously. Wilson had been making comments like that for three or four days now, and House was wondering what it was leading up to.

"I'm not planning on it," Wilson replied. He got up to leave, but hesitated.

"What's going on?" House asked. "You lie worse than Cameron."

Wilson turned and faced his friend. He really didn't want to do this, but he knew that he had to. He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair.

"You're right, but let's not do this here. Why don't we go and see Cuddy? She needs to talk to you too." Wilson wasn't stalling, but he needed backup.

"I know, she's been trying to get me into her office for a week. Lucky I don't need the cane anymore, I can finally outrun her," House quipped, but Wilson wasn't laughing.

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House didn't like the feeling in the room from the moment he sat in Cuddy's office. Something big was going on, and it was apparent from the glances Wilson and Cuddy kept sharing that they'd been together on whatever it was for quite some time.

"Greg," Cuddy started. "We're concerned about you."

"Greg, huh?" House replied. "I didn't realize we were on a first name basis, today, Lisa."

"House, give her break," Wilson said. House stared at him, then nodded. He knew what was coming.

"The board members are concerned about your Vicodin habit," Cuddy continued. "I'm sure you know that there are several board members who would be happy to see you unemployed today. But, most of the board recognizes your exceptional skills, and want to see you stay on as a productive member of the hospital staff."

"But?" House asked.

"But, they feel that now that your leg is no longer causing you pain, they can no longer turn a blind eye to your addiction. The board considered suspending your privileges here until such time as you could evidence that you'd overcome it." House opened his mouth, but Cuddy held up her hand to silence him. "Dr. Wilson and I argued strenuously that removing you from your job would be a most effective way of assuring that you would not overcome it. After several emergency meetings, Dr. Wilson and I were able to convince the board to postpone suspending you and to give you a chance to deal with it on your own terms."

House stood up and turned away from Wilson and Cuddy. He hadn't really expected that the hospital would allow a drug addict to treat patients, but somehow he'd hoped it would just go away. He began to shake, with anger and fear, and reached into his pocket for the bottle of pills. They were very nearly in his mouth when he realized what he was doing. Carefully, he put them back in the bottle.

"The board has agreed to a 90 day trial period, during which time you may choose any treatment program you feel comfortable with. The terms of this agreement include mandatory psychotherapy and random drug testing. At the end of the 90 days, as long as the board is assured that you are making progress, you will be able to continue with your chosen program. If they don't feel you've made enough progress, or aren't taking this seriously at the end of the 90 days, you will be suspended until you've completed a drug treatment program of their choice. You will only have one opportunity to complete their program; if unsuccessful, you will be fired." Cuddy waited for a reaction. She felt very badly about this. After all, she was the doctor who'd approved the surgery that had caused him the leg pain. It was her medical decision that caused him such pain, and ultimately led to his addiction. Now, to have to force him to overcome this in such a short time, she felt like she was letting him down again.

House turned to look at Wilson. He was sure Wilson had something do with this. It couldn't have just been the board.

"You agreed to this?" House asked him.

"House, it was this or you were out of a job, and so was I," Wilson answered.

"What do you mean?" House asked.

"I mean, the board has already placed a letter of warning in my file. If they find that I've written you a prescription for Vicodin to be filled here or at any pharmacy in the state of New Jersey, they will fire me without prejudice, and notify the state licensing committee that they recommend by license be revoked." Wilson had been put in a tough spot on this. He didn't like it, but he knew it was best for his friend.

"Right, can't lose your livelihood, you've got all that alimony to pay," House spat. He was shaking with rage. He couldn't believe his best friend, his only friend, would do this to him.

"That's not fair," Wilson replied. "I stuck my neck out for you on this. Half the board members weren't even aware I was the one writing you the prescriptions until I started arguing for them not to fire you on the spot! Now my job is on the line too. I didn't care. I did it because you're my friend, and this wasn't your choice. You should at least have the chance to handle it yourself." Wilson was shouting now. He was angry too, and afraid; afraid of losing his best friend, but more afraid of watching him fail.

"If you were my friend, you wouldn't care about what the board said. You'd write the prescriptions anyway." House glared at him. He was beginning to panic now. He couldn't lose his job, but how would he get by without the Vicodin? Random drug testing?

"I am your friend. That's why I won't write the prescriptions anymore. I can't force you to deal with this; I can't force you to save your job and save your life. But I don't have to help you throw it all away either." Wilson was visibly upset. "I'll help you in any way I can, Greg. You know that."

"Any way but the way that counts," House hissed. He turned his back on Wilson and faced Cuddy. "Send the agreement to my office, I'll read it and have it back on your desk first thing tomorrow." He stormed out and slammed the door behind him hard enough to knock a picture off Cuddy's wall.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 19

House stood on the roof of the hospital, looking out over the city skyline. His eyes searched for something he could focus on, anything. His hands were still shaking; even gripping the ledge he couldn't make them stop. He was so angry, he couldn't even think. How could Wilson do this to him? And Cuddy? It was partly her fault he needed the damn pills to begin with. Hadn't he been through enough this past year? Stacy, being shot…what was next? He could feel tears forming in his eyes. He squeezed them shut, but it was too late. The cool, night breeze on the roof dried the silent tears that slid down his cheeks.

After a few minutes, he got control of himself and went back down to his office. Cuddy had left the agreement on his desk, as asked. She'd also left a note, asking him to please call her anytime if he needed help. House crumpled the note in his fist and tossed it in the trash, barely reading it. He picked up the agreement and stuffed it into his bag. He grabbed his Ipod and put it on. He turned the volume as loud as he could tolerate it, and left the hospital.

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Sitting at home on the couch, House had read the board's agreement five or six times. After two Vicodin and several beers, he was calmer and feeling better about the whole situation. He started to feel a little badly about shouting at Wilson. The agreement was more than fair. Even the part about the random drug testing seemed reasonable enough. Depending on the program he started, the board had agreed that they would monitor the levels of Vicodin in his system, as long as they were decreasing, he would be okay.

He wanted to call Wilson, but he was too proud. He knew he was wrong, and Wilson was right, but he would never admit that. He and Wilson had been friends a long time, and House was pretty sure Wilson would understand. The only problem he could see was getting enough Vicodin to get him through the next 90 days. The bottle he had once again had no refills available, and it was already half empty. Even if he cut down his dosage by half, he'd be out in a week, maybe less. Wilson wouldn't write him another prescription; he was going to have to find it some other way. As he was going over the possibilities in his mind, there was a knock at the door.

House got up to answer it; surprised that Wilson would come here today. He knew he'd hurt his friend, and figured he was in for a lonely week at least. Maybe it was Cuddy? She probably felt even guiltier about him than usual. House opened the door.

"Cameron?" House said. She stood at the door, holding a pizza in one hand and a six-pack of beer in the other.

"Take the pizza before I drop it," she said, thrusting the box at him, "it's burning my hand." House took the pizza and stared at her. She stared back.

"Are you going to let me in?" Cameron asked.

"What are you doing here?" House asked, stupidly.

"You invited me, remember?" Cameron asked. "Yesterday, when we left the circus, we were talking about British comedy, you were appalled when I said I didn't get it. You told me to come over here after work today and bring dinner and you would help me appreciate it." Cameron looked at him questioningly. "You don't remember any of this? You ranted for a good twenty minutes about some show called Blackadder?" She raised her eyebrows at him. "You nearly crashed your motorcycle when I said I'd never heard of it?"

House remembered. After the scene in Cuddy's office, the circus seemed like a month ago. He looked back into his apartment, unsure what to do next. Things were actually going well with Cameron; he didn't want to screw that up. He wasn't sure he wanted company tonight, but how could he tell her that now?

"House, are you okay?" Cameron asked with concern. "You look a little, off."

"I'm fine," House said, as he stepped aside to let Cameron in. "Sorry, I just got caught up in something, I must have lost track of the time. I'll get some plates." House took the pizza into the kitchen, and Cameron followed.

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House shooed her out of the kitchen, making a snide comment that he could manage to get plates and put pizza on them all by himself. Cameron took a beer for herself and one for House, and then put the rest in the refrigerator. She went back into the living room and sat on the couch. While House was in the kitchen frantically searching for at least one clean plate, Cameron looked around the room. She wasn't surprised by the huge collection of music and the enormous stereo system, although she was a bit taken aback by the piano. She didn't know he played.

She glanced down at the coffee table and saw the agreement with the hospital board of directors. She looked toward the kitchen, and seeing that House was still busy, picked it up and scanned it quickly. She was shocked, the board was forcing him into a drug rehab program? No wonder he'd forgotten she was coming over. She wondered if she should make some excuse and leave, but thought better of it. He would be suspicious, and she didn't want him to know she'd seen it. She dropped in back on the coffee table and made her way over to his music collection.

"What the hell is this?" House called from the kitchen.

"The pizza?" Cameron replied. "Well, I wasn't sure what you liked, so I just ordered what I normally get. I figured you wouldn't turn down free food."

House smirked in the other room. She wasn't wrong, but he eyed the pizza with a hint of trepidation. Mushrooms, peppers and what looked like goat cheese? Well, dinner was dinner.

Having finally found one clean plate for Cameron's pizza, and putting his own few slices on plate bearing what looked like pizza stains already, House came back into the living room. Cameron was standing by the shelves, looking at his CD collection. He quickly put the plates down, grabbed the agreement from the coffee table and tossed it on the desk. He looked back at Cameron, but she still had her back to him. He didn't think she'd seen it.

He hadn't noticed when she'd arrived, but she was dressed very casually, nothing like how she normally dressed for the hospital. She was wearing jeans, which hugged her body in the right places, and a low-cut, green top that make her eyes shine. House glanced at her appreciatively.

"For future reference, men prefer at least one meat product on their pizza," House remarked, sitting down on the couch. He held out Cameron's plate, and she took as she sat down next to him.

"I'll try to keep that in mind," she said. "Maybe the next time the man wants a pizza, he could buy it." She shot him a sidelong glance as she bit into her slice.

House didn't reply, but switched on the TV. He scrolled through the recordings on his DVR, and found a season of Blackadder. He turned it on and settled back in the couch. He glanced over at Cameron to see her licking a stray mushroom off her hand. He felt a flutter in his stomach watching her tongue wrestle with the mushroom, trying not to let it fall on the floor. Finally, she managed it, and glanced in his direction. She grinned sheepishly, and turned to the TV.

An hour later, Cameron was laughing out loud. She hadn't expected to really like this; it was just an excuse to spend time with House outside the hospital, but it was actually funny. She laughed again, and as she did she realized House was laughing too. She smiled; she wasn't sure she'd ever heard him laugh before. It was a good sound.

"Who is this guy?" she asked House.

"That's Hugh Laurie," House replied. "He's great in this. Next time you come over, we'll watch something else of his, maybe Jeeves & Wooster." House said, only realizing after he'd said it that he'd just invited Cameron again. He waited for her reaction.

"Is he as funny in that too?" Cameron asked. She'd noticed the implied invitation, but she was beginning to learn that with House, sometimes things were just better left unsaid.

"Absolutely." House replied. He took that to mean she would be coming over again. Wilson had been right; it would be good to have another friend. Besides, Wilson hated this stuff, no matter how many times House tried to get him to watch it.

When the show had ended, Cameron stood up and stretched. As she arched her back, he top lifted enough to give House a glimpse of her lower back and sides. His stomach fluttered again. He reached for his Vicodin, and realized he hadn't taken any since he came home from the hospital, which had been several hours ago. He returned the bottle to his pocket, unopened.

Cameron began collecting the empty beer bottles and dirty plates. As she tried to balance them all together, the bottles began to slip. She overcorrected, and nearly toppled over herself. House jumped up from the couch and caught her by the waist. The bottles fell to the floor, spilling the last of Cameron's beer, but neither of them noticed.

With only the plates between them, House and Cameron's eyes locked. Cameron felt a surge of electricity rip through her body. Her knees felt weak, and her heart was racing. House's strong hands gripped her waist, and the skin beneath them began to tingle. She tilted her head up to his, praying he would make the first move.

House stared deep into Cameron's eyes. He could feel the fluttering again, and this time not only in his stomach. He leaned into her a bit, until he could smell the fruity scent in her hair. He could feel his pulse quicken, and his breath began to come faster. He leaned in a bit further, until his lips were nearly touching hers. He saw her eyes close, and as he began to inch forward, he felt something cold on his chest. Then Cameron jumped back and swore.

"Damn!" she shouted. House looked and saw that she had pressed one of the plates into her blouse. Her neck and chest were covered with pizza sauce. House looked down and noticed his own shirt was also covered with pizza sauce.

"Damn," she said again, softer this time. "This blouse is new, too." She didn't look up at him, afraid he would see the disappointment in her eyes. Then she heard chuckling. She looked up to see House was laughing at her. She was angry for a split second, before she started laughing too.

"Sorry about your T-shirt," she said, when she noticed the sauce all over him. She laughed even harder. It released the tension in the air, and she was able to look at him.

"I'll get you something clean you can put on to go home," House said. He walked toward his bedroom, taking off his soiled shirt on the way. Cameron snuck a look before returning to the couch to clean up the mess she'd made.

In the bedroom, House paused to take a deep breath. That was intense. He felt nearly as good as if he'd taken the Vicodin. No time to think about that now, as he began rummaging through his drawers for two clean shirts. He put one on, and brought the other out to Cameron in the living room.

She'd cleaned up the mess on the floor, and was standing with a dishtowel trying to blot the pizza sauce off her top. House handed her the T-shirt and pointed toward the bathroom where she could change.

When she came out of the bathroom, her blouse in her hands and House's T-shirt swimming on her petite frame, House thought he'd never seen her look so good. She gathered up her purse and keys and looked at him.

"So, I think I better get home and soak this before it's completely ruined," she said lamely. She just wanted to go. She and House were actually beginning to get along, and she didn't want that to get screwed up by moving things to fast.

"Right," House replied. He wasn't really sure what to say next. He wanted her to come over again, but didn't know how to ask her.

"So, Jeeves & Wooster?" Cameron asked, letting him off the hook. She knew he wasn't comfortable with this, so she figured she'd give him a little help.

"Okay, Friday?" House asked. Cameron just nodded. She leaned in and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek before opening the door and walking out. House closed the door behind her, and then leaned back against it and let out a huge sigh. Maybe the next 90 days wouldn't be as terrible as he was afraid of. He took one Vicodin and swallowed it, then went to bed.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 20

The next week passed pretty normally, all things considered. House and the ducklings had no patients, so House had spent most of the week trying to avoid clinic duty by hiding out with coma guy. He was doing okay in cutting down his Vicodin usage, but was very nearly out and knew he wasn't ready to stop cold turkey. He needed another prescription to get him through the next few weeks while he weaned himself slowly off the drug. The problem was how to get it?

"House!" Cuddy shouted, and startled him out of his thoughts. "Exactly how long do you think you can avoid clinic duty?"

"Apparently not much longer," House griped. "This is a big hospital, don't you have better things to do than chase me down to the clinic?"

"Yes, I do. But none of them are nearly as much fun as watching you suffer having to actually see patients." Cuddy hissed. She wasn't in a good mood that day, and she really thought she would feel better if House was miserable too.

"You know," House said, dropping his voice, "there are other ways you could cause me pain, that might be fun for both of us." He wiggled his eyebrows at her suggestively.

"Please," Cuddy replied, "I'm not in the mood." She turned and exited the room, heading back to her office. House followed, on his way to clinic duty.

"I would think with all those extra hormones you're taking, you'd be even more in the mood than usual," House quipped.

Cuddy stopped dead in her tracks. She turned around and slapped House squarely across the face. He looked at her, stunned.

"Cuddy, what the hell!" House shouted. He'd been harassing her with similar comments for nearly six years, what the hell was wrong with her today?

Cuddy opened her mouth to reply, and instead dissolved into tears. She turned and ran into her office, not wanting any of the hospital staff to see her crying. House followed, and barged into her office without knocking.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" House demanded.

"I'm not pregnant," Cuddy sobbed.

"How is that different than yesterday?" House asked.

"Because yesterday I thought I was!" Cuddy shouted.

"You had the IVF," House said. It wasn't a question, really.

"Beginning of the week," Cuddy replied, slowly getting control of her crying. "Two days ago I got a positive result on my pregnancy test. Then this morning, my period started. It was a false positive."

House didn't know what to say. He wanted to comfort her, but he was really terrible at that. Everything he said always came out wrong. And hugging wasn't exactly his thing, either. Instead, he did the one thing he thought might relieve her mind a bit.

"I'll do my clinic hours this week, you don't have to chase me down," House said.

Cuddy looked up and gave him a weak little thank you smile.

"Just a week though," House warned. "I don't want to besmirch my stellar reputation for being a pain in the ass. And if anyone asks, I'm going to tell them that you whipped me until I bled."

"Deal," Cuddy said. "Thanks."

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After he had finished his clinic duty, House returned to Cuddy's office. He hated doing this, but he really couldn't see any other choice. He knocked, and waited for a response before entering.

"Cuddy, I need a favor." House said.

"What sort of favor?" Cuddy asked tiredly. It had been a very emotional day for her, and she was looking forward to going home, getting into bed, pulling the covers over her head and pretending the whole day had never happened.

"I need a prescription," House answered. No sense in beating around the bush.

"For Vicodin? House, you must be joking." Cuddy replied.

"I'm not. Look, you saw the treatment plan I submitted. It's a gradual detox. The last prescription Wilson wrote me has no refills available, and I'll be out tomorrow. I've cut my dosage, but I can't just go cold turkey. It won't work, and I'm not going to fail in the first two weeks." Right now the only thing getting House through this was his desire to prove those arrogant bastards on the board wrong.

Cuddy hesitated. She knew he was right, and she didn't want to see him fail either. He had only completed a week; he still had nearly three months to go.

"What's the dosage you're taking now?" Cuddy asked. House told her, and she did some quick mental math. A prescription with one refill would take care of it if he continued to lower his dosage. She wrote it out and handed it to him. He looked down and read the prescription.

"Thanks," House said. He'd been hoping for more, as he wanted to take this as slowly as possible, but he knew he'd have to take what she would give. This would get him through for a while, at least, and he wouldn't have to take any of the drastic measures that had come to mind earlier in the day.

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Mere moments after House left, Wilson stuck his head into Cuddy's office.

"Got a minute?" Wilson asked.

Cuddy looked up from her desk, surprised. She hadn't realized the door was open, and she been crying again. She was embarrassed at being caught. She quickly wiped the tears from her cheeks, but not quickly enough.

"What did he do?" Wilson demanded. He'd seen House leave the office and assumed he'd been harassing Cuddy about the rehab.

"What?" Cuddy asked. "Oh, nothing. He's okay. It's not that." She wasn't sure she wanted to talk to Wilson about this, but she needed someone and House had problems of his own right now.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked, concerned. Cuddy looked up and saw the concern on his face. If Wilson could be such a good friend to House, maybe he could be a good friend to her, too. She took a deep breath and told him the whole story, dissolving into tears again when she finished.

Wilson was amazed; with all the rumors that flew around this hospital he'd never heard a whisper about this. Cuddy was still crying. Although they hadn't been this close previously, Wilson could no more stand by and watch a woman cry than he could chew glass. He came around the desk, kneeled down and took her in his arms. He held her while she cried.

As her tears began to slow, Cuddy realized how good it felt to have a man hold her again. Maybe this was what she really wanted, not just a baby. Maybe what she really wanted was a family. She lifted her head from Wilson's shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"Thanks," she said. "I really need to get home." Wilson stood and gathered up her briefcase and purse for her. He handed them to her and smiled.

"If you need someone to talk to," Wilson said, "call me. I seem to be short a best friend right now myself."

"I will, thanks, James." Cuddy replied, and left for home.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 21

House stood outside the office marked Dr. Quigley with a pained look on his face. Of all the things he'd had to agree to with the board, this was absolutely the worst. If there was one thing House hated above all others, it was talking about his feelings. He didn't see how he was going to survive three months of psychotherapy.

"Dr. House?" A voice asked.

House turned, startled. The man in the doorway was, he assumed, Dr. Quigley. He was an older man, tall and lean, with snow-white hair. He had clear blue eyes, and a surprisingly deep, but pleasant voice.

"Dr. Quigley." House replied. The man nodded, and motioned for House to come in. House followed, reluctantly.

Once inside, House looked around the office to see what sort of quack Cuddy had set him up with. While Dr. Quigley busied himself with some papers at his desk, House noticed a small television set on a credenza to his left. There was also what looked like an older Nintendo system on the shelf. House smirked a bit. He continued looking about the room, relieved to see there was no couch. Instead he saw two brown leather chairs, facing each other across a small glass table. On the wall behind the seating area, were several black and white photographs, all of a young man playing golf.

"I played on the amateur circuit for a while before I finished medical school," Dr. Quigley said, noticing House looking at the photos. "That was quite some time ago."

House nodded. He figured if he didn't talk, he couldn't be analyzed. He took a seat in one of the leather chairs and stretched his legs.

Dr. Quigley sat in the chair opposite him. Neither man spoke for a few moments. House was beginning to think it reminded him of that scene in 'Good Will Hunting' when Matt Damon and Robin Williams spend their first session just sitting, when Dr. Quigley began to speak.

"I'm not Robin Williams," he said. "I won't let you sit here for the whole session and not talk."

House looked at him in surprise. Dr. Quigley laughed.

"Do you thing you're the first patient I've ever had who didn't want to talk to me?" he asked, amused. "Please. Half the patients I see are ordered here for some reason or another. None of them want to tell me anything, and half of what does come out of their mouths is total bullshit."

House just gaped at him. What the hell kind of psychiatrist was this guy?

"Don't look so shocked. If even a third of the stuff I hear about you is true, you feel roughly the same way about all your patients," Dr. Quigley continued.

"Everybody lies," House replied simply.

"Yes they do." Dr. Quigley agreed. "And do you know who they lie to most often?"

"The IRS?" House quipped.

"Themselves." Dr. Quigley answered.

House groaned. It was like talking to Wilson, but without the beer and a ballgame on TV.

"Look Dr. House, let's set some ground rules here, okay?" Dr. Quigley asked. House nodded his assent. "First, what you prefer to be called? Dr. House or Greg?"

"Just call me House, it's what everybody else calls me." House replied.

"Fine, House it is. And call me Quig; it's what most people call me. Okay, here are the rules. First, we need to acknowledge that you don't want to be here," he paused while House gave him the 'duh' face. "Fine, I accept that. Now you accept this, I don't want you here." House gave a surprised look.

"I have other patients who actually want my help, and believe me I'd much rather be talking to them. But we both have to be here, so the first rule is no bullshit. I won't hassle you about your feelings, too much, and you make the best effort you can. If you think I'm pushing you too hard, just say so. I'll give you a break on whatever it is for the rest of that session and the next one. And if I don't, you can tell Cuddy I'm a shitty doctor and get a new shrink. You make an effort, and I won't tell Cuddy to fire your as. We agree?"

House again simply nodded his consent. So far, he kind of liked this guy.

"Okay, rule two. I don't care about your childhood if you don't. So talk about it or don't, I don't really care." Seeing no resistance from House, he continued. "Final rule is this, pretend I'm your friend. From what I've heard about you, you may not be familiar with that concept, so I'll explain. While you are in here, you can talk to me about pretty much whatever you want. Sports, sex, drugs, the weather, anything. As long as you're talking, I'm listening. But, if you treat me like you treat everybody else, which is to say like dog shit that you'd desperately like to get off your sneaker, you should expect to get treated that same way. Just like a real friend would do. Deal?" Quig looked at House expectantly.

"Deal." House said. "By the way, your bedside manner sucks."

"I skipped that day in med school," Quig replied, "had a hot date."

House laughed. Maybe he could survive this. He pointed to the Nintendo on the credenza.

"Got any good games?" House asked. Quig laughed, and the two launched into a discussion about their favorite video games.

Having survived his first therapy session without incident, House was napping on the couch in his office. He had somehow wrangled Cameron into covering his clinic hours. Actually, it wasn't that hard. It seemed the entire hospital already knew he'd been forced into rehab, so he just told her he was having a rough day and she offered.

Meanwhile, Cameron was really suffering down in the clinic. Normally, she enjoyed clinic duty, but not today. She'd already seen three cases of stomach flu, and been vomited on. After dashing to the ladies locker room to shower and change into some clean scrubs, she was back in the clinic, toughing out her last hour.

She entered the exam room to find a young mother with an extremely sick little girl. The girl looked to be about 10 or 11 years old, and looked completely exhausted and in pain.

"Courtney Pevensee?" Cameron asked. The mother and girl both nodded. "My name is Dr. Cameron. I see here you've got a fever, fatigue, vomiting and a headache."

"We thought she just had the stomach virus that's been going around, but then today when she got up she was complaining that her neck hurt. I'm probably paranoid, but I was afraid maybe she had meningitis." Mrs. Pevensee stroked Courtney's hair softly while she spoke.

"How long his this been going on?" Cameron asked. She was looking through the questionnaire the patient's mother had completed when she came into the clinic.

"About a week and a half," Mrs. Pevensee answered.

"Okay, Courtney, let's take a look. Let me know if you feel nauseous, I'll make sure to get you a basin, okay?" Cameron wasn't looking forward to another change of clothes.

The girl turned over, and Cameron was surprised to see how tired she looked. If she only had the recent stomach virus, she really ought to be feeling better by now, not worse. Cameron began the examination, and noticed while looking in her ears that she was sweating. Cameron took her temperature; it was 103 degrees.

"Has she been exposed to anything else at school, chicken pox, something like that?" Cameron asked, peering into Courtney's mouth. Something about this was making the hairs on the back of Cameron's neck stand up, and she didn't like it.

"Nothing I know of. The only thing going around school has been this stomach virus." Mrs. Pevensee replied.

Cameron nodded her response. She was trying very hard to figure out why this case gave her such a bad feeling.

"My legs feel weird," Courtney said suddenly.

"What do you mean, weird?" Cameron asked.

"Heavy, like I can't move them," Courtney replied. Suddenly, Courtney began seizing. Cameron rushed to give her a dose of Ativan to control her seizure.

House was awakened from his nap by his pager going off. He looked at it, and saw he was being paged to the clinic for a consult. House closed his eyes again; if it was really that important someone would come get him. Not two minutes later, his pager was going off again. House groaned and looked again. The clinic. He shut off the pager and closed his eyes. This time his pager went off within a minute. Annoyed now, House sat up and looked. The clinic again. What the hell was going on down there?

Reluctantly, House got up from the couch, stretched and exited his office to go down to the clinic. By the time he had reached the nurse's station, his pager had gone off three more times. He slammed his hands down on the desk, making as much noise as possible without his cane.

"Somebody better be dying," House barked.

"Dr. House," the nurse said, coming around the desk, "Dr. Cameron needs you for a consult in exam room six. She asked me to…" the nurse's voice trailed off as House was already half-way down the hall.

"Cameron," House barked as he barged into the exam room. "Perhaps I was unclear earlier. When I asked you to cover my clinic hours, I meant that you would handle all the doctory stuff, not drag me down here for it."

"This is Dr. House," Cameron said to Mrs. Pevensee. "He'll be consulting on your daughter's case. Could you excuse us for a moment?" Cameron grabbed House by the arm and dragged him into the hall.

"We need to take this case," Cameron said, handing House the file. House took it and looked it over, then rolled his eyes at Cameron.

"Are you joking? As unbelievable as these words are going to seem coming out of my mouth, the mother is probably right, she has meningitis. Do the LP, and then treat her." House shoved the file back at Cameron and turned to leave.

Cameron grabbed his arm again, holding him back. House looked at her, then at her hand on his arm, then at her again.

"Cameron, just because I don't have my cane any more doesn't mean I can't still get you off me. I'm not averse to simply kicking you in the shins. Let go." House said.

"House, I'm telling you, something else is going on here. The symptoms have been going on way too long for her to just come down with meningitis this morning. Look, call it woman's intuition," House rolled his eyes, "I'm telling you we need to take this case!" Cameron practically shouted at him.

House lifted Cameron's hand from his arm and dropped it. He opened his mouth to snark at her when Mrs. Penvensee opened the door to the exam room and stuck out her head.

"Dr. Cameron? Her face is twitching." Mrs. Pevensee called.

House raised an eyebrow.

"We'll take the case," he said, and walked away.


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 22

Cameron sat at the conference room table watching House write symptoms on the whiteboard. She really didn't know why she felt so strongly about this case; she just knew she needed to be part of it.

Foreman and Chase, responding to their pagers, entered the conference room and sat at the table.

"New case?" Chase asked.

"Your grasp of the obvious never ceases to amaze me, Dr. Chase," House snarked without turning. He finished writing and stood back slightly to look at the board.

10-Year-Old Female

Fever

Vomiting

Fatigue

Headache

Muscle weakness

Facial twitching

Seizure

"Okay, go," House turned to the ducklings.

"Meningitis" Chase suggested.

"Doesn't explain the muscle weakness and twitching," Foreman replied.

"Maybe its meningitis and something else," Chase said.

"Something else like?" House questioned.

"Bell's palsy," Chase replied.

"Good," House said and wrote meningitis and Bell's palsy on the board.

"Neither of those would explain the seizure," Foreman said.

"The seizure could have been febrile," Cameron remarked. "She's a little old, but her temperature was over 103 degrees."

"You can't just ignore a symptom because you don't like it," House told her. "What else could fit all these symptoms?"

"How about Guillan-Barre?" Foreman suggested.

"Okay," House replied and wrote that on the board as well. "Anything else?"

"West Nile." Cameron said. House nodded and added that to the board also.

"Chase, get some blood, test her for Guillan-Barre and West Nile, and we need an LP to rule out meningitis. Foreman, do a neurological exam to see if we can confirm Bell's palsy. Cameron, go back and get a more complete history."

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Cameron entered Courtney's room. Her mother was standing beside the bed, stroking her hair again.

"Mrs. Pevensee? I need to get a more complete medical history to help us determine what exactly is wrong with your daughter." Cameron said. Cameron, Mrs. Pevensee and Courtney spent the next 40 minutes going over Courtney's history, activities, job, and school, anything that could be relevant. Mrs. Pevensee revealed that Courtney had just returned from spending a month with her father in Delaware. Courtney seemed a little uncomfortable with this, but Cameron asked Mrs. Pevensee to call him and ask him to come to the hospital.

Cameron returned to the conference room to review all her notes. There was really nothing in the history that was helpful. It was all routine childhood stuff.

"Anything useful?" House asked from behind her.

"Nothing. But she just got back from a month with her father. He's on his way here now, maybe he can tell us something we can use." Cameron sighed. She still felt like there was something about this case that was just outside her grasp and she couldn't quite reach it.

"It's not Bell's palsy," Foreman announced, taking the marker and crossing it off the board. Foreman turned and sat at the table, taking the file from Cameron to review.

"She doesn't have meningitis," Chase replied. "The results for Guillan-Barre and West Nile won't be ready for a few more hours."

Cameron's pager went off, followed by Foreman, then Chase. The three rushed to Courtney's room.

"I can't move my feet," Courtney said, clearly frightened. "Why can't I move my feet?" She was crying now.

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"Add paralysis," Cameron announced to House, flopping into a chair at the conference table. She laid her head down on the table. After Courtney had begun experiencing paralysis in her feet, Cameron had done an extremely thorough physical exam, looking for signs of insect bites or ticks. She'd found nothing.

"Aw, are we keeping you awake?" House snarked at her. He wrote the new symptom on the board, and then sat at the table as well. He reached into his pocket and shook out two Vicodin. Of course, he was only supposed to be taking one, but he was feeling anxious and needed the extra one to help him think straight, he rationalized.

Cameron lifted her head to watch him swallow his Vicodin. She raised an eyebrow at him, but wisely said nothing. She knew it was going to take more than a couple of weeks for him to break a five-year drug addiction.

"How do you know when you're missing something?" Cameron asked him.

"Well, when my hooker doesn't come over for a few days I start…" House began, but Cameron interrupted with a disgusted huff.

"I mean this," Cameron waved her hand at the board. "I've watched you do it a hundred times, you just stare at it and things come to you. How do you know?"

House cocked his head to one side and looked at her. She really was observant. He didn't want the ducklings to know that sometimes he didn't know the answer immediately. He wanted them to think he knew what he was doing the whole time, and he was trying to teach them by letting them go through the whole process.

"I'm not sure I can explain it," House answered, honestly. "It just clicks. Sometimes you have to stop thinking about something to get it. That's what that stuff is for." House indicated his Ipod and Gameboy, which he placed on the table. It was a good question. It was the sort of question she needed to be asking if she was going to learn to be a great doctor, not just a good doctor.

Cameron nodded. She'd expected an answer like that. It was something she was going to have to work on. Sometimes, after they'd figured out what was wrong with their patient, she could kick herself for not having seen it sooner. She could see the connections, but only after House had made them.

Cameron's pager went off. She checked it, and then heaved herself out of her chair.

"The father is here," she informed House, and went to speak to him. House followed a little behind her.

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"Mr. Pevensee?" Cameron asked of the man standing outside Courtney's room.

"It's Russell, actually," the man replied. "Chris Russell. My wife took her new husband's name, and so did Courtney." Mr. Russell gave a rather bitter smile. He was older than she'd expected, based on Courtney and her mother. Cameron wondered if that had anything to do with their divorce.

"Sorry, Mr. Russell. I understand Courtney was staying with you last month? I'd like to ask you a few questions about her time there. It might help us determine what's wrong with her." Cameron smiled at him, and led him to a sitting area nearby.

After speaking with him for a few minutes, Cameron got the distinct impression that he wasn't telling her something. He'd answered all her questions, and without hesitation, but something still felt wrong. As they were wrapping up, Mrs. Pevensee exited Courtney's room. She gave Mr. Russell a quick look, and then walked down the hall toward the cafeteria. Mr. Russell went immediately into Courtney's room, and began whispering to her.

Cameron stood outside the room watching them. Mr. Russell was speaking softly into his daughter's ear. What should have looked like a tender moment between a father and daughter instead looked so, wrong. Whatever Mr. Russell was saying, he was saying it very urgently. Cameron felt someone stand next to her and turned. It was House.

"He's lying to me." Cameron stated.

"Of course he is," House replied. "Everybody lies."

"So I do how I get him to tell me the truth?" Cameron asked.

House just shrugged. There were some things you just couldn't teach people. They had to figure them out for themselves. He looked at his watch; it was now past 7 o'clock.

"Cameron, its after seven," House said. "Why don't you go home? Maybe if you get away from it, something will come to you."

"Think you could get me a few minutes alone with Courtney. I need her parents out of the room," Cameron said. House smiled. She was on the right track.

"Sure," House said. "Then you're going home."

House entered Courtney's room and spoke for a moment to her father. Mr. Russell kissed his daughter on the top of the head, and followed House reluctantly.

Cameron entered Courtney's room after House and Mr. Russell had turned the corner. She wanted to ask Courtney a few more questions to see if she got the feeling the lying had something to do with her father.

"So that was your dad?" Cameron asked. "He seems like a really nice guy. Must be tough to have your parents not get along, huh?"

"It's okay," Courtney answered. "All they did when they were married was fight all the time anyway. My dad's a journalist; he travels all the time. My mom was always mad that he wasn't around; she was always yelling at him that his job was more important than us. Dad would always say he was lucky that he got to spend his life doing something he loved, and that she should be happy for him." Courtney paused. "It's better this way. My dad can travel whenever he needs to, and doesn't have to feel guilty. My mom gets to have a husband at home most of the time, so she's happier too."

"Where's your step-dad now?" Cameron asked.

"He had to go to a convention. It's the only one he goes to every year. Figures it's when I'd get sick. I hope my mom isn't mad at him." Courtney spoke quietly. "Do you think she'd divorce him over something like that?"

"I don't think so," Cameron said soothingly. "If it's the only time he travels all year, it's just bad timing, that's all." Cameron sighed. This wasn't getting her anywhere. She didn't feel like the girl was holding anything back about her parents. Cameron noticed an unusual necklace Courtney was wearing.

"That's a really pretty necklace," Cameron commented. Courtney's eyes lit up, then quickly darkened.

"Thanks. My dad got it for me for my birthday." Courtney replied, shortly.

"We're did he get it?" Cameron asked

"I don't know, he didn't say." Courtney replied. "I'm kind of tired. Is it okay if I get some sleep?"

"Of course," Cameron answered. "I'll come in to check on you in the morning."


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter 23

Chase had drawn the short straw to stay at the hospital and monitor Courtney over night. Cameron gathered up her things and went home. She knew House was right, and she should try to put the case out of her mind, but she just couldn't. The answer was right in front of her; she just couldn't see it.

After a weary drive home, Cameron unlocked her apartment and dropped her things on a table just inside the doorway. She went into her bedroom and grabbed a tank-top shirt and pajama bottoms from her drawers. She changed quickly, and came back into the living room. She sat at the small desk in the corner of the room and flipped on her computer. Ten minutes later she was so engrossed in researching seizures in patients with West Nile that she barely heard the knocking at the door.

"Cameron!" A familiar voice shouted from the hall.

Startled, Cameron got up and went to the door. Checking the peephole, she saw House standing on her doorstep. He was holding a pair of plastic shopping bags. Confused, Cameron opened the door.

"House, what are you doing here?" Cameron asked.

House looked Cameron up and down. Apparently, she'd forgotten what she was wearing. House was quite certain he wouldn't be forgetting anytime soon, however. She had on a pale green tank-top shirt, just tight enough to be interesting and short enough to not quite reach the waistband of her pajama bottoms. Her pajama bottoms, white with pale blue and green stripes, were of the drawstring variety, and House could see she'd neglected to tie the string when she'd changed. Not having much in the way of hips to hold them up, the bottoms had slipped down slightly on one side, revealing the very top of a pair of lacy panties. House couldn't suppress a lecherous smirk from passing over him.

Cameron caught the expression on his face, and looked down at herself. Gasping, she stepped back behind the door, blocking House's view.

"What are you doing here?" Cameron repeated.

"Making sure you eat dinner, and trying to teach you how to stop thinking about something that's frustrating you," House replied. "Dinner," House said, holding up one of the bags. "And a distraction," he continued, holding up the other bag.

Cameron motioned for him to come in, and House stepped inside. The apartment was small, but cozy. While House looked around the living room, Cameron made a dash for the bedroom to grab a slightly less revealing t-shirt. Coming back out, she saw House was no longer in the living room.

"House?" she called out.

"In the kitchen," House said. Cameron could hear rattling sounds, and realized he must be looking for dishes. She entered the kitchen to help, noticing the disappointed look on his face that she was wearing a large t-shirt.

Cameron put two plates on the table, and reached into a drawer for forks and serving spoons, while House took out carton after carton of Chinese food.

"How many people did you think you were feeding?" Cameron asked, chuckling.

"Well, I wasn't sure what you'd like, so I sort of ordered one of everything." House gave Cameron a sheepish grin. "Actually, the only real food I've ever seen you eat was that pizza. If you call pizza with goat cheese real food." House made a face.

Cameron laughed. House outside of work was different. Sarcastic, yes, but not so overbearing. She supposed this must be what he's like when he's with Wilson. She paused in dishing food onto their plates. Did he miss Wilson? Was that why he was suddenly interested in spending time with her? This made twice in the past two weeks. Cameron shook her head. Did it really matter why?

Cameron handed him a plate piled high with food, and took the other, remarkably less full, for herself. She walked out to the living room and paused.

"Dining room table?" She asked.

"Are we allowed to eat in front of the TV, mom?" House quipped.

"Sure, why? Oh, my distraction," she replied, catching on. "So, what is it?"

House sat on the couch, placed his plate on the coffee table and reached into the other plastic bag he'd brought with him. He withdrew a DVD, but refused to let Cameron see it.

"Please tell me you have a DVD player," House said.

"I have one. I don't use it much, but I have one." Cameron replied. "What are we watching?"

House wiggled the DVD at her, before getting up from the couch to start their entertainment for the evening.

"Jeeves & Wooster?" Cameron asked.

"I know we were supposed to watch this tomorrow night," House said, sitting back on the couch and picking up his plate, "but it was the best distraction I could come up with. We can watch something else tomorrow." As House finished, he paused with his fork halfway to his mouth. He just invited her over again. What the hell was wrong with him?

Cameron allowed herself a small smile. He'd invited her over again. He seemed surprised, too.

A few hours later, the DVD ended and House looked over to see that Cameron had fallen asleep on the couch. He checked his watch to see it was just past midnight. He stood up and stretched; he gathered up the dirty dishes, brought them into the kitchen and rinsed them in the sink. He considered washing them for a second, but decided against it.

House walked back into the living room to grab his jacket and DVD, and paused to watch Cameron sleeping on the couch. As he stood watching her, he noticed her shivering slightly in her sleep. Scanning the room, he saw a throw blanket tossed on an armchair in the corner of the room. He brought the blanket to the couch to cover her with it.

Draping the blanket over her legs, and bringing it up to cover her arms, House heard her mumbling something. He leaned closed, trying to make out what she was saying. She mumbled again; he didn't get most of the words, but distinctly heard a 'Greg', and then a soft moan. House grinned. He touched her hair lightly, so as not to wake her, and quietly slipped out of the apartment.

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Cameron arrived earlier than normal at the hospital the next morning, which was really an ungodly hour, more determined than before to figure out what was wrong with Courtney. She'd had a dream during the night; a recurring dream that she thought she'd gotten over years before. In the dream she was very young, barely two years old. She was in the hospital with her mother, and an older girl that she sort of recognized, but her father was nowhere to be seen. The older girl was in the hospital bed; she looked very sick and very tired. Her mother was crying and stroking the girl's hair. Then the girl was gone, and her mother was sitting in a hallway, crying and crying. Her father showed up, and her parents began screaming at each other. Then her father left, and her mother collapsed and Cameron was left alone.

When she'd woken up, she realized why she wanted this case so badly. Courtney reminded her of her older sister, Emily, who had died before Cameron was out of diapers. Cameron had been plagued by that dream most of her childhood. Her mother and father never spoke about Emily. Whenever Cameron would ask either of them about the dream, her mother would cry and lock herself in her room and her father would leave the house, sometimes not coming back for days.

It wasn't until high school, after Cameron had gotten into some pretty serious trouble with drugs and been forced into therapy, that she realized what the dream was about. With her therapist, she'd confronted her parents about it, and they'd admitted that she'd had an older sister who had died of cancer shortly before Cameron's second birthday. For years, she had been denied even knowing about her. It was one of the reasons Cameron had such a hard time telling families that their loved one was dying. How could she, when her own parents couldn't tell her the truth about her sister?

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House arrived at the hospital even later than usual, which was really an obscene hour to show up for work, feeling terrible. Driving home from Cameron's apartment the night before, he'd suddenly been wracked with a tremendous need for a Vicodin. He'd pulled his motorcycle over quickly, barely making it to the side of the road before vomiting. Shaking and sweating, he'd reached into his pocket and taken two Vicodin, twice what his normal dose was supposed to be. The night had continued in much the same way, with shakes, sweating and nausea plaguing him until the early hours of the morning, when he'd finally taken four Vicodin and been able to fall asleep.

When he entered his office, it was blessedly empty and quiet, as was the conference room. He lay down on the couch, hoping for a nap, when Chase and Foreman entered.

"House, nice of you to join us," Foreman quipped. A quick look at the expression on House's face squelched his next comment.

"Courtney's paralysis is ascending," Chase advised him. "It's slow, but definitely moving further up her legs."

"Where's Cameron?" House asked.

"She's in the lab, going over the test results." Foreman answered, just as Cameron came in the door.

"The results are negative for West Nile and inconclusive for Guillan-Barre." Cameron said. "House, you okay?" she asked, with evident concern.

"Peachy." House said. Cameron and Chase exchanged a look. "My hooker brought over some new little pills last night, kept me up forever. You know how that is, don't you Chase?"

Cameron closed her eyes and tried really hard to control her anger. She didn't want to get into a battle with House over this. She knew he was disappointed she'd slept with Chase, although of all people to judge them, she let the thought drift away. And the fact that he'd rather the boys think he'd spent a drugged out night with a hooker than watching TV on her couch didn't help her mood.

"Start her on the treatment for Guillan-Barre," House said.

"House, the results were inconclusive," Cameron repeated.

"Yes, but the results for West Nile were negative. Inconclusive is closer to positive than negative," House paused and shook his head. "You know what I mean. It's the closest thing we have to a diagnosis, go with it."

"House, what if the stomach flu she had was really the beginning of the West Nile virus. That was almost two weeks ago. The virus itself would be out of her bloodstream by now, but still affecting her." Cameron argued.

"Fine, then start her on the West Nile treatment," House countered.

"If we start her on that treatment, and we're wrong, the paralysis will spread even faster," Foreman warned.

"Well, if that happens then we'll know we were wrong and we can switch to the treatment for Guillan-Barre." House said. This was beginning to give him a headache. He reached in his pocket for his Vicodin and his pager began beeping. The ducklings reached for theirs as well, but only House was being paged.

"Shit," he swore under his breath. He swallowed one Vicodin, and turned to the team. "I'm late for therapy. Start the West Nile treatment, I'll check with you in an hour." He walked out of the room.


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter 24

Cameron chased after Foreman, who was proceeding down the hall to Courtney's room.

"Foreman, wait." Cameron said, finally catching up and laying a hand on his arm. "House is wrong. I know he is. If we start that treatment, we're going to permanently paralyze that little girl. I can't do it."

"You're not, I am. Look, Cameron, House may be wrong about the diagnosis, but he's right about the treatment. Personally, I think it's far more likely that she contracted West Nile from a mosquito than Guillan-Barre. We have to treat her, we can't just wait around until the paralysis reaches her lungs or heart." Foreman really thought Cameron was going a little overboard today.

Cameron sighed. She knew in her head that Foreman was right, but her gut told her there was something else.

"Look, Foreman, House will be in therapy for an hour. I know the father is hiding something from me. Give me 45 minutes. If I can't get anything out of him by then, no new leads or information, start the treatment. Okay?" Cameron pleaded.

"I'll give you half an hour, that's it," Foreman replied. "And if House finds out, I won't lie for you."

Cameron nodded her thanks before walking the rest of the way down the hall. Foreman just shook his head. With the mood House was in today, Cameron was just setting herself up for a bad time.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

As Cameron walked down the hall, she saw Mr. Russell standing outside Courtney's room looking in. Mrs. Pevensee was inside with Courtney, and the two obviously were too strained to spend any time together. As Cameron approached Mr. Russell, her pace slowed. Something was nagging at her, something she'd seen recently. She paused, and closed her eyes. She'd come in early this morning, and sorted through House's mail. She'd discarded just about everything that came in, except a new book of Sudoku puzzles he'd ordered and his National Geographic. Then she'd gone to make coffee, and …the National Geographic! There was a photo on the front page of a village in Africa somewhere, Nigeria maybe, where a local woman was making jewelry out of stones and animal teeth. The byline for the article was by Christopher Russell.

Cameron joined Mr. Russell at the window. She stood silently for a moment, letting her mind work. An awful suspicion came to her.

"That's a beautiful necklace you gave Courtney," Cameron said. "My mother really loves African art and jewelry, where did you get?"

"Oh, we had a local woman make it for us," Mr. Russell replied. "Courtney picked out most of the pieces herself. She has a great eye for colors."

"A local artist? Really, I'd love to get her name," Cameron continued, quietly.

"Not exactly local," Mr. Russell said. He spoke quietly also, almost as though he wasn't really aware he was speaking. "Not unless you consider Nigeria local."

"So, when did the two of you get back?" Cameron asked, forcing her voice to remain calm.

"Oh, just a few days before she was supposed to go back to her mother." Mr. Russell replied. "I had to rush my story a bit, but I couldn't get her back late …" Mr. Russell trailed off as a look of panic rushed into his face. "Oh my god, don't tell her mother I took her to Nigeria with me. She'd never let me see her again. I didn't tell her mother we were going, I knew she'd never approve. You don't have to tell her do you?"

But Cameron was already running down the hall. She burst into the lab, and startled Chase.

"Where's the latest round of blood samples for Courtney?" She demanded.

"Right here," Chase replied, confused. "I was just about to use this last one to test for Guillan-Barre again, hey!" Chase shouted as Cameron grabbed the sample from him. "What are you doing?"

Cameron didn't reply, but immediately began working on the sample. Chase came and looked over her shoulder at the test she was starting.

"Are you serious?" Chase asked.

"The father took her to Nigeria without telling her mother, and then made Courtney swear not to tell anyone," Cameron answered.

"Oh my god," Chase replied.

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On another floor of the hospital, House and Dr. Quigley were talking about golf. House had played before his infarction, and Dr. Quigley had played as an amateur golfer when he was a young man. It seemed video games weren't the only thing they had in common.

"How often to you play now?" House asked.

"Oh, just once or twice a week," Dr. Quigley replied. "I'm not as young as I used to be, and I'm not sure my wife would put it up with more often than that." Dr. Quigley paused. "Have you thought about taking it up again?"

"Taking what up?" House asked, confused.

"Golf." Dr. Quigley replied.

"I can't play golf, Quig, I'm crippled," House snarked back without thinking.

"No, not anymore you're not. I know you still have a limp, but now that the pain is gone, you could probably stand long enough to play, if you used a cart instead of walking the course. You've never considered it?" Dr. Quigley pressed.

"I, …uh,…"House gave up and just shook his head.

"You know, House, just because you're still trying to get over your addiction, doesn't mean you shouldn't start trying to get back to your normal life. In fact, in my humble opinion, well maybe not so much humble as highly educated opinion, getting back to some of the things you enjoyed before the infarction might be helpful in that respect." Dr. Quigley suggested.

"Right, if I could just get back my golf game, my life would be all moonbeams and bunnies again," House snarked.

"Somehow I doubt that your life was ever moonbeams and bunnies," Dr. Quigley replied dryly. "Maybe pizza and beer?"

House rolled his eyes at Dr. Quigley.

"Wouldn't that beat the pills and booze?" Dr. Quigley continued.

"Hey, how about we give this a break for today," House said. He didn't really want to talk about this.

"Ask and you shall receive. Two sessions off from moonbeams and bunnies," Dr. Quigley joked.

Just then Dr. Quigley's pager began beeping. He frowned; he was never paged during a session with a patient unless it was an absolute emergency. He picked up his phone and dialed. After listening for a moment, he hung up the phone and turned to House.

"Well, looks like you're off the hook for today. Apparently several of our psych patients have decided that a picnic on the roof would be a lovely idea, and are refusing to come off the ledge. I'm afraid you'll have to excuse me," Dr. Quigley said, opening the door.

"I knew I liked those psych patients for a reason," House quipped.

"Monday," Dr. Quigley shouted back at House as he hurried down the hall.

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House went back to his office to check on the patient's progress. It had barely been a half an hour, but if the West Nile treatment was wrong, they'd know it very soon. His office and the conference room were empty. House sat in his office and grabbed his National Geographic. He'd just finished scanning the table of contents, looking for an interesting article, when he realized he was still alone. Where were all the ducklings? With an annoyed grumble, he tossed the magazine on the floor and went to check on the patient himself.

Arriving at Courtney's room, he saw that none of the ducklings were with her. He entered and picked up her chart. Seeing that the West Nile treatment had not yet been started, he shouted to a nurse passing in the hall. The nurse jumped, clearly frightened of House. House ordered the medications he wanted, and waited for her to return.

Foreman came around the corner of the hall and saw House in Courtney's room. He should have been in therapy at least another half hour. Foreman shook his head, trying to decide if he should try to cover for Cameron or not. He decided it was worth a try. She would certainly stick up for him if he tried something like this. He stepped into the room, but before he could even open his mouth to say anything, House pounced. He grabbed Foreman by the arm and forced him back into the hall.

"Foreman, what the hell have you been doing for the last half hour? I told you to start her on the treatment for West Nile, only to come in here to find she hasn't even been checked on in the last half hour!" House was shouting. He could feel himself beginning to shake, and reached in his pocket for his Vicodin. He swallowed one, and then began shouting at Foreman again.

"As long as I pay your salary, you'll do as I tell you. Don't forget who the real doctor is here!" House was screaming, but he barely noticed.

"Cameron asked me to give her half an hour while she ran down another lead. I didn't want to disturb you at your session, and half an hour wasn't going to make a difference while she's progressing so slowly. Time's about up anyway, I was just coming in to start the treatment you ordered." Foreman didn't feel the least bit guilty about throwing Cameron under the bus. He'd tried to warn her, but she didn't want his advice.

"Cameron asked you? And since when are you and Cameron such great friends that you care what she thinks? Or is she screwing you now too, and you figure you'd better make nice or she'll cut you off?" House knew it was ridiculous, even for him. He could feel people looking at him, but he couldn't seem to get hold of himself.

At that unfortunate moment, Cameron and Chase had rounded the corner holding the new test results. She'd heard House's comment about sleeping with Foreman too, and anger welled up in her chest. How long was he going to keep throwing that in her face?

House saw Cameron and Chase advancing on him, and knew he needed a minute to compose himself before speaking to her, or he'd end up saying something even worse. The nurse he'd barked at earlier came into view holding a fresh IV bag and syringe; it was the medication House had ordered to begin treating Courtney for West Nile. House seized the IV and syringe from her roughly, and crashed into Courtney's room, waking her.

House hung the bag on the IV stand, and began changing the connection so he could begin her treatment. His hands were shaking so badly, he could barely manage it. He'd just closed his eyes and taken a deep breath, when the door opened behind him.

"House, don't give her the treatment, you need to see these results," Cameron began, calmly enough. She thought she recognized a slight tremble in his hands, and knew he must be going through a tough time with his withdrawal right now. Giving in and fighting with him would only make it worse, and she needed him to hear her.

"Dr. Cameron," House replied, his voice oozing disdain, "when I'm looking for a sound medical opinion about this patient, I will ask the pigeons on my balcony. Right now, I have more respect for their judgment than I do yours. At least the pigeons listen." Snarking at Cameron seemed to make him feel a touch better, and he finally managed to connect the new IV bag.

House next took the syringe and prepared to administer the West Nile medication, when a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him away. It was Cameron. She opened her mouth to speak to him again, but House had already started moving. It was a reaction, mostly fueled by his horrible, shaking withdrawal. Everything was suddenly in slow motion as he watched his arm swing around and strike Cameron's face. She stumbled slightly, and looked him with something like pity, disgust, shock, horror and familiarity in her face. The look almost shattered him.

"She has polio, you bastard," Cameron said, softly, dropping the test results onto Courtney's bed and running out of the room.


	22. Chapter 22

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed after the last chapter. I think that's the most reviews I've ever gotten at once! Obviously, I must give credit for the song lyrics in this chapter (as I did not write it) It's Behind Blue Eyes by The Who.**

Chapter 25

House stood, completely unable to move, while hell broke loose around him. Courtney, hearing Cameron announce that she had polio, began crying hysterically. Chase and Foreman, who had watched the entire scene from beyond the glass wall, sprang into action. Chase entered Courtney's room and began to explain her disease, the treatment and her chances for recovery.

Foreman ran to the nurse's station and had Dr. Wilson and Dr. Cuddy paged. Foreman then went to the nearby seating area, where he found Mrs. Pevensee and Mr. Russell. As he explained Courtney's condition, Mr. Russell became every pale. When Foreman finished, Mrs. Pevensee wiped a tear from her face.

"How could she get polio?" she asked.

Foreman didn't answer. Actually, he really didn't know. Cameron and Chase hadn't had the opportunity to fill him in on the details of the case before it happened. Foreman turned to see if Chase was through speaking to Courtney.

"Dr. Chase can probably answer that question better than I can," Foreman began.

"I can answer it," Mr. Russell interrupted.

"Chris?" Mrs. Pevensee questioned.

"I had to go to Nigeria," he started. A look of horror, quickly replaced by a look of such hatred that Foreman took a step backward, flooded Mrs. Pevensee's face.

As the two began a screaming match, Foreman signaled a nurse to call security, just to be safe. Once security arrived, Foreman advised them just to keep an eye on the couple, and returned to Courtney's room.

Chase had succeeded in calming Courtney down. She was still crying, but was no longer hysterical. She wanted her parents. Foreman told her they would be in to see her in just a few minutes.

House still stood. He was completely frozen. His eyes, staring but not really seeing, were trained on the spot where Cameron had stood. The boys just looked at each other, neither really sure of what to do. Finally, Foreman spoke.

"Chase, why don't you go check if Courtney's parents are ready to come in. I'll take care of House."

Chase nodded. Better for Foreman to deal with House. Chase had never cared for the way House treated Cameron. Even though he knew House hadn't meant to hit her, Chase wasn't sure he could trust himself not to reciprocate. Chase left the room without another word.

"House," Foreman said.

House didn't respond. He stood. It was all he could do to keep breathing. His head was filled with a continuous replay of his hand striking Cameron's face. His ears were filled with Cameron's voice, calling him a bastard. It replayed over and over again. His hand struck her face. Bastard. His hand struck her face. Bastard. His hand struck her face. Bastard.

"House," Foreman said again. He reached out and touched his arm, just above the elbow.

The contact was enough to startle House out of his reverie. He closed his eyes, and Foreman was stunned to see a lone tear slip out from beneath his lashes and slide down his cheek. Foreman increased the pressure on House's arm, and gently guided him out of the room.

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Wilson had grabbed hold of House as soon as he exited Courtney's room and hurried him down the hall. Chase had filled him in on what had happened, and he counted his blessings that Cuddy was in a board meeting this morning. He'd beaten Cuddy to the scene, and he knew House needed to get out before Cuddy could get hold of him.

House never said a word, just walked with Wilson as quickly as his now subtle limp would allow. Wilson led House straight into his office, locked the door behind him and pulled the blinds. House stood exactly where Wilson had left him, almost as if he was unable to move under his own power. Wilson put a hand on his back and sort of pushed House to the couch. House sat, not speaking. Wilson took a deep breath, and let it out slowly while running his hands through his hair.

Wilson was very afraid for his friend. He knew that House put up a good front for the world. Most people took his arrogance for just that, arrogance. Mostly people believed that he really thought he was better than everyone else. Wilson knew that wasn't quite true. House's arrogance stemmed from his pride in his abilities, his skill as a doctor. House didn't think he was better than anyone else, just smarter than most people. In truth, House probably disliked himself more than most other people could manage.

Wilson leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor. He sat and stared at House. House stared at the floor. They sat that way for a long time. Wilson didn't know what to say. He hoped House would speak first. When it became apparent that House was unwilling or unable to speak, Wilson tried.

"Greg," Wilson began. House just shook his head. "Greg, what happened?"

House just shook his head again. He couldn't speak; he was too busy hating himself. For years, he'd told himself that he had control of the Vicodin, not the other way around. Even after the disastrous week he'd spent proving to Cuddy he could do without the Vicodin, he had admitted to being an addict, but not to it being a problem. Any final delusions he'd had about this had just been violently stripped from him. He had no control over this; he barely had control over his own hands. He stared at his hand, the one that had hit Cameron. He regarded this hand as a traitor; he looked at it as if it belonged to someone else.

A soft knock at the door startled both men. House looked up at Wilson with something remarkably like pleading in his eyes. He didn't want to see Cuddy, or the boys. Wilson nodded.

"I'll do the best I can," Wilson said. He opened the door, fully expecting to see Cuddy. He did not.

"I should have realized Cuddy wouldn't knock softly," Wilson remarked. He looked over his shoulder at House. "I'll be right outside if you need me." Wilson stepped out and allowed the visitor to enter.

House looked up from the couch, and his breath caught in his throat.

"You okay?" Cameron asked.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

House stared at Cameron, dumbfounded. He couldn't quite look her in the eyes. He was afraid. Afraid to see anger, afraid to see hate, but mostly, afraid to see pity. Cameron kneeled down on the floor in front of House. He turned his head away; he didn't want to look at her. Cameron reached out a hand and took his chin, turning his head to look at her. He gave in, and looked in her eyes. He saw something else. Understanding?

"I don't want to talk about this here," Cameron said. "I'm going to tell you a story. When I'm done, you can decide what comes next. I can help you, but only if you want it." House opened his mouth to try to say something, but Cameron placed a finger on his lips. "No, me first. Let Wilson take you home. I'll see you at eight. You owe me a movie, remember?"

Cameron got up and left the room, not giving him the opportunity to refuse her. She stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. She leaned back against the wall and took a deep, shaky breath.

"Can you take him home?" Cameron asked Wilson.

"Sure. Allison, what happened?" Wilson was concerned about her as well.

"It's a long story. I'll tell it to you tomorrow," she smiled a small smile at him, "you can buy me lunch." Wilson smirked and rolled his eyes at her. "Don't leave him alone, Jimmy, okay? I'll be there around eight."

"Allison, are you sure you want to do that?" Wilson asked.

"Of course, why not?" Cameron countered. Hesitating, Wilson pointed to the bruise beginning to form on Cameron's cheek.

"That's nothing," Cameron replied. "Look, I've got to go talk to Cuddy before she decides to fire him. Just get him home, and don't let him do anything stupid, okay?"

"Nothing?" Wilson said. As he followed Cameron to the elevators, he began to wonder if House hadn't been a little bit right about Cameron. It seemed like she was purposely putting herself into a relationship where she was doomed to get hurt.

"Nothing," Cameron repeated. "Jimmy, you just have no idea what we're capable of." The elevator door opened and Cameron stepped in.

"What who is capable of? Wait, who's we?" Wilson asked, not following what she'd said.

"Drug addicts." Cameron answered, as the doors closed between them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Wilson followed House into House's apartment. House still hadn't spoken, but at least had regained the ability to move under his own power. He walked straight to his entertainment center, and began pawing through the shelves, looking for a particular CD. At last, finding what he had been searching for, he put the CD in the player and pushed a few buttons. Wilson recognized The Who, but was surprised by House's song choice. _Behind Blue Eyes, _Wilson thought.

_No one knows what it's like _

_To be the bad man _

_To be the sad man _

_Behind blue eyes _

House sat on the couch, head back, eyes closed, and let the lyrics and the music wash over him.

_No one knows what it's like _

_To feel these feelings _

_Like I do _

_And I blame you _

_No one bites back as hard _

_On their anger _

_None of my pain and woe _

_Can show through _

Secretly, he'd found this song an astounding assessment of himself since the infarction. He really felt like no one, not even Wilson or Stacy, ever really understood him. When the song ended, the CD player fell silent.

Wilson sat on the couch next to House. They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes.

"So, how've you been?" Wilson asked, inanely.

House rolled his head toward Wilson. Wilson stared back.

"What, no small talk?" Wilson asked. He was trying to lighten the mood. He certainly wasn't going to sit here and let House wallow in self-pity until Cameron showed up.

"So," Wilson tried another tack, "Cuddy wants a baby."

House raised an eyebrow at him questioningly.

"Of course, you already knew that. Jerk. I can't believe you didn't tell me that's what that date was all about." Wilson glanced at House again. House merely shrugged.

"She didn't seem like she really wanted to tell me, but apparently after you got shot she spent a few weeks giving herself the hormone injections. Not the easiest thing to do, I suppose. Then, with the therapy and all that, she decided she needed some help and I guess she figured Dr. Quigley would be torturing you enough, so she asked me if I could do it for her." Wilson paused, again glancing at House for some sort of a reaction. Nothing. "Nice ass she's got."

At this, Wilson swore he saw the smallest of smirks on House's lips. Encouraged, he continued.

"Of course, I offered to help her go through potential donor files and all that. She seemed a little embarrassed at first. I guess she assumed you'd told me she was considering asking me. She still hasn't though." Wilson stretched. "I probably would have done it, but personally, I'd rather get knock her up the old-fashioned way. Seems like such a shame to waste that ass on hormone injections."

At this, House definitely smirked. Wilson smiled; he knew House couldn't resist a crass Cuddy joke. House put his feet up on the coffee table and reached for the TV remote. He flipped through the channels until he found a ballgame, and settled back into the couch. Wilson got up and went to the kitchen, returning with a beer for each of them.

The boys sat and watched the game.

Promptly at eight, there was a knock at the door. House immediately clicked off the TV, but remained on the couch. Wilson got up to answer the door. As he opened it, he glanced back to see House had once more closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch. Instead of letting Cameron in, Wilson stepped into the hall for a quick consult.

"How is he?" Cameron asked.

"He's okay. Quiet. That's a little creepy. I can't remember the last time House had nothing to say about a baseball game. But he's not rending his garments or anything along those lines." Wilson wasn't really sure he wanted to leave the two of them alone.

"Jimmy, we'll be fine." Cameron said.

"Did House teach you how to do that?" At Cameron's questioning glance, Wilson continued. "Read minds, I mean."

"No, it's written all over your face. You might as well hold up a sign that says 'I think this is a bad idea'. Listen, I promise I'll give the full story tomorrow, but here's the abridged version. I know exactly, and I mean exactly, what he is going through right now. I know he didn't mean it; he wouldn't have been able to stop himself if he'd tried. Just trust me, Jimmy." Cameron looked at Wilson with a resolution in her eyes he'd not seen before. He nodded his head.

"Okay. I'm going home." Wilson reached in his wallet and handed Cameron a card. "That's my cell. Call me if you need me. Anytime. I mean it, Allison." He gave her a quick hug, and left her standing in the hall outside House's door.


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter 26

Cameron sat at the opposite end of the couch from House. He hadn't moved or spoken since she'd come in and put down her things. She wasn't entirely convinced that he was sleeping, but she didn't want to wake him if he was. So she sat. After a few minutes, House picked his head up and looked at her. Cameron knew that even though he seemed to love the sound of his own voice sometimes, he wasn't really much of a talker.

"Hungry?" she asked. It was a safe question. When wasn't he hungry?

House just shook his head no. He was too tired to eat. He was too tired to talk. He just wanted to sit.

"Well then. I guess I'll tell you what I came to say. I don't expect any sympathy or anything. In fact, I'd rather you didn't try to be nice, you'd only screw it up." Cameron shot him a quick grin at that last comment. "I already know you pulled my medical records. You must have seen that I was hospitalized for a month when I was 17?"

House nodded. He'd noticed, of course.

"And I assume, seeing as you're House, that you checked out the hospital where I was, since it's not a name you were familiar with?" Cameron continued.

Again, House nodded. I must be getting predictable, he thought.

"Well, so then you know it was a psychiatric hospital." Cameron looked to House for confirmation; he nodded again. "And I suppose you decided it was some sad little girl angst, about a bad home life or a boyfriend. Something typically Cameron?"

House just looked at her. How did she know that's what he thought?

"Well, what you probably didn't know is that the hospital also runs a drug treatment facility."

House looked up at her, surprised. Cameron, a drug addict? That was ridiculous.

"Humph," Cameron huffed. "I figured as much. You know, House, I always wondered why you never pushed me on that night I got high. Did that really seem like me? The me that you know?" House shook his head this time. "But you never pushed me on it. Maybe you're slipping in your old age?" Cameron teased. House frowned.

"Right, not in the mood to be teased." Cameron paused. "You're always going on about how ethical I am, how moral. I push too hard, nothing is ever gray, just black and white." Cameron paused again. This was harder than she'd thought. "I push myself that hard because I remember how easy it was for everything to be gray. Everything was okay; nothing was really wrong or bad, as long as you had a good reason for it. I can't let myself see the gray, because I'm afraid. I'm afraid if I see the gray somewhere, it'll creep in everywhere else. Does that make any sense?" House nodded.

Cameron continued speaking. She told House about the dreams she'd had as a little girl, and about how she'd asked her parents for years and never been able to get an answer. Her parents were distant, fighting all the time and not really being a part of her life. They were there, but only in the physical sense. By the time she started high school, she knew that she needed to go away to college. Her parents didn't make a lot of money, so the only way that was going to happen was for her to get a scholarship. She told him how she'd thrown herself into her schoolwork; she hardly made any friends at all or had any kind of life.

Then she told him about how, when she was midway through her sophomore year, her father got laid off from his job. He struggled to find even part time work in their small little town, and she and her mother had both had to take part time jobs just to get by. Her grades began to slip, just a little at first but then more and more. She didn't have the time to study she'd had before she started working, and the work itself only got harder.

"It started out innocently enough, I suppose. Of course, that's probably what everybody says. I started taking caffeine tablets, just enough so that when I finished waiting tables in the evening, I could still come home and spend a few extra hours studying. It was a rough few months, but I got through it. I spent that entire summer before my junior year working, hoping that if we could save up a little money, maybe I could take less shifts when school started again." Cameron had gotten up and begun pacing the apartment by this time.

"But, it didn't work out that way. My mom got fired, and she couldn't always find steady work. So only a month into my junior year of school, I was taking the caffeine pills again. Only they weren't enough. I couldn't stay up late enough, and I was desperate. I couldn't quit my job, and I couldn't let my grades go. Getting a scholarship was the only way I was ever going to get out of that town. So, I started taking uppers. It was perfect. I could stay up the whole night to study before any test or exam, or to write a paper." Cameron looked at House, trying to gauge his reaction. He was watching her intently.

"Of course, you can only do that for so long before you crash. I made it until Christmas break. I convinced my mom I'd caught some sort of flu that was going around school, and I spent basically the whole vacation sleeping. But then school started up again, and I just couldn't keep up with the pills. So I started taking uppers and downers. I'd take an upper when I came home from work, study until 2 or 3 in the morning, then take half of a downer, just enough to get maybe 4 hours of sleep. I'd picked up an extra shift on the weekends at work; it was just barely enough to pay for the uppers. When I started needing the downers too, I couldn't afford it."

Cameron paused. This was the part that she hated the most, even more than the crash and burn at the end. And she wasn't sure she wanted House to hear it, but she thought the only way he'd ever trust her was if she trusted him. So she continued.

"I couldn't afford to pay my dealer for both of them. I couldn't work any more than I already was. So, he let me take it out in trade." Cameron stopped and looked at House. She didn't want to go into any more details than absolutely necessary, but she wanted to make sure he got what she meant. One look at his face told her he got it.

"Well, it went that way the rest of the year, and the summer. Turns out even though I didn't need them anymore, I still needed them. My senior year was no different. My parents never noticed anything serious. Whenever my mother would get a little suspicious, I would just tell her how tired I was from working and studying so hard, and she'd give me this sad little smile and tell me what a good girl I was." Cameron wiped a tear away at that point. She and her parents had never had much of a relationship, but she still always hated herself for lying to her mother like that.

"When senior year finished, I got my scholarship. I was so excited; I wanted to burst. But, I had no friends to celebrate with. My parents were happy, I guess, and proud of me, but we just weren't a family. So, I called my dealer and told him I wanted to celebrate. We spent the next three days completely high and well, you know." Cameron blushed. House didn't make a single comment. Cameron was very grateful for that.

"When I came home three days later, I collapsed in my room and didn't come out. My mom and dad were a little freaked. But that was nothing until they couldn't wake me up. They called an ambulance, and I'm sure you can figure out the rest. Lucky for me, my dad had managed to get a job working as a janitor in the hospital. He knew the administrator, and was able to get me into that private hospital. I spent a month in detox and therapy. That was when I found out about my sister."

Cameron continued to tell House about how she'd discovered, in a joint session with her mom and dad, she'd had a sister, Emily who had died of cancer. The whole story came out, about how Emily had gotten sick. How each of her parents blamed the other. And, how after Emily died, they both just sort of retreated into themselves. They had given everything they had to Emily while she was sick, and they just had nothing left to give.

"Since it was a private hospital, they told the college admissions board I was admitted for mental exhaustion. Stress from the years of working and studying so hard. I left for college that fall, and didn't go back home until my mother died. I went to the funeral, and then left again. I'll go back for my father's funeral, of course. But probably not before." Cameron stopped. She was done. She looked at her watch. Amazing. She'd told him her entire life story in just over an hour. It was barely 9:30.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"The night I got high last year was the first time I've touched anything that wasn't a prescription in more than ten years. And in one night, I was right back to who I was when I was a teenager. I'm not proud of it, but I always knew it could happen some day. You don't ever get over being an addict. And it only takes a minute to slip." Cameron sat back on the couch with House.

"Anyway, I wanted you to know. I understand exactly what you're going through. Not the leg, of course, and whatever other personal stuff you've got going on in there. But I get the Vicodin. You'll never hear a bad word from me about it. I know how hard it is, and how hard it always will be. You can talk to me about it anytime you want, or not. It's totally up to you. But I know I would have liked to have someone I knew and could trust to talk to, instead of a bunch of strangers."

House didn't say anything, just nodded at Cameron to indicate he understood. His mind was still reeling a little from all the information she'd given him. And he was surprised he'd never put the two things together. Maybe he was so wrapped up in Stacy when Cameron had slipped last year, that he couldn't see it right in front of him.

He heard Cameron behind him rustling in some bags. He stretched his longs legs out in front of him, and then stretched his arms along the length of the couch. He looked over at Cameron, who was pulling something out of the shopping bag she'd brought.

"Okay, all the serious stuff is done. You owe me a movie. Not that I don't enjoy British comedy, because I do. But I thought something a little different might be good today." Her tone was much lighter. She meant what she'd said. Enough seriousness. She sat next to him on the couch and handed him the DVD. It was Girl from Rio.

House raised an eyebrow at her.

"Hugh Laurie again, huh?" He finally spoke. "What are you, in love with him?"

"Jealous?" Cameron asked, teasing. She got up from the couch and put in the DVD.

"Are you kidding? I'm ten times better looking than he is." House snarked.

"Maybe," Cameron drawled, looking him up and down. "But you don't have the accent."

"The accent?" House questioned.

"The accent," Cameron confirmed, heading back for her bags. "It's a well known fact that a British accent instantly makes any man at least five times sexier than he is based on just his looks."

"Women." House replied. Cameron came around the couch and handed him a deli container. He opened it to find a Rueben sandwich and a bag of chips. Then he wrinkled his nose. Cameron, sitting next to him opening a sandwich for herself, caught the face and laughed at him.

"What's with the face?" she asked.

"There is a pickle dangerously close to my sandwich," House said.

Cameron giggled. She reached into House's container and grabbed the pickle.

"It's not poison, you know," she said, munching happily on the excellent deli pickle.

"No, but it used to be a vegetable," House replied.

"Men," Cameron huffed. "Vegetables are good for you. Did you skip that day of med school too? Must have been the same day they taught bedside manner."

"Snarky today, aren't we?" House asked.

"I learned from the best," Cameron answered.

"True, very true." House paused. "Cameron?"

"House."

"You did good today." House didn't look at her while he said, just studied his sandwich.

"Thanks," Cameron replied. "Movie's starting."


	24. Chapter 24

Chapter 27

House blinked his eyes open to see the movie credits rolling on the TV. He took a deep breath and prepared for a good stretch, but stopped when he noticed a weight on his chest. He looked down at a tousled head of hair. Somehow during the movie, he and Cameron had fallen asleep, and Cameron had ended up snuggled into his chest. House closed his eyes and took another deep breath, enjoying the pleasant scent of Cameron's shampoo.

House tilted his head to one side so he could get a look at her face while she slept. He smiled softly, gazing at her loveliness, until his eyes came across the now purple bruise on her cheek. He closed his eyes once more. He had done that to her. He had marked her, interrupted her beauty with his ugliness. He knew that she understood, and forgave him, but could he forgive himself? Had he really fallen so far? Addicted to pain pills, well on his way to developing an alcohol problem, in jeopardy of losing his job and now he'd hit a woman. Not just any woman, Cameron. Could he get any lower? He supposed he could, but how much lower before he couldn't live with himself?

Before House could ruminate any further about the horrible downward spiral of his life, Cameron stirred on his chest. She picked up her head, rubbed her eyes and looked around, confused. Then, realizing where she was, she leaned back quickly, relieving the pressure on House's chest.

"Sorry," she muttered, embarrassed. Cameron ran her fingers through her hair, and quickly wiped her face, in case she had drooled. She stretched, and then checked her watch. It was past midnight. She stood, and looked down at House.

"It's late, I should go home," she said, looking at him. She wanted to be sure he was going to be okay before she left. She remembered her first night after she'd realized she had a real problem, and how alone she'd felt.

House just stared back at her, his blue eyes a mystery. Usually Cameron felt like she could see something in his eyes that didn't play on his face, but not now. She had no idea what he was thinking. Sensing that he wasn't going to answer her, she turned to gather her things and go home.

"Stay."

Cameron paused; she thought he'd said something. She turned and looked at him, but again could read nothing in his expression. She decided she'd imagined it. She turned again to leave, when she felt his hand on hers.

"Stay."

Cameron turned and looked at him. Their eyes locked, and she could read him now. He was guilty, he was in pain and he was scared. She knew all those feelings. Slowly, she nodded her head.

House stood and pulled Cameron toward the bedroom. She followed him, hesitatingly. She wasn't sure exactly what he had in mind. When they entered the bedroom she stopped in the doorway. House had made his way to the dresser, and took out a large t-shirt and pajama pants. He walked back toward Cameron, handed her the t-shirt and then continued past her to the bathroom. Cameron quickly removed her clothes and slipped the t-shirt over her head. It was just long enough to serve as a nightgown. As she pulled her hair out of the collar, she took a deep breath. The t-shirt smelled like House.

House came back into the bedroom. He was still wearing the t-shirt he'd had on earlier, but had changed his jeans for his pajama pants. He turned off the light, took Cameron's hand and led her to the bed. Pulling down the covers, he indicated for her to get in. She hesitated again. House pleaded with her with his eyes, and she climbed into the far side of the bed, leaving room for him to lie down next to her. House climbed into the bed next to Cameron, lay on his back and pulled the covers to his waist.

Cameron, lying on her back, turned her head to look at him. He stared straight at the ceiling. She settled herself deeper into the pillow when she felt a hand fumbling under the covers. She stiffened, but the hand found hers and laced their fingers together. Cameron smiled, and squeezed his hand. She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

House felt Cameron turn and look at him, but he didn't feel like he could face her just yet. Not this close, not this intimate. He didn't want her to leave; he didn't want to be alone but he couldn't admit it. Not in words, anyway. He thought she understood, but just to be certain, he felt under the covers for her hand. She gave his hand a squeeze, and he felt better. He closed his eyes, and fell back to sleep.

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House woke up alone. The quality of the light coming in the window told him it was past mid-morning, possibly verging on noon. He closed his eyes again as a wave of nausea rolled over him. He realized he'd never taken any Vicodin while Cameron had been there the night before, and his body was screaming for it. He could feel the shaking beginning in his hands, and a headache was rumbling behind his right eye. He took a deep breath to try to fight off the nausea, but it was a losing battle. He stumbled out of bed and hobbled quickly to the bathroom, barely making it before he began dry heaving over the toilet. After a horrible twenty minutes of that, he collapsed onto the floor, exhausted, exhausted and angry.

He was angry with Stacy for doing this to him, with Cuddy for allowing Stacy to do this to him. He was angry with Wilson for letting the board force him into rehab. He was angry with Cameron for … His face crumpled, deflated. Tears began to form behind his eyes, which only made him angrier. Now, however, he was angry with himself. He was angry that he'd let himself be beaten by those stupid pills. He sat on the bathroom floor and willed himself not to cry.

Certain that he'd gotten himself under control, and relatively certain he wasn't going to vomit on himself, House got up and went to the kitchen to make coffee. As he reached the kitchen, he could smell coffee was already brewing. He looked around to see if Cameron had just gotten up before him, but she wasn't there. Confused, House peered at his coffee pot. Amazed, he noticed a timer setting. Cameron had set up a pot of coffee and turned on the timer for 11am. House checked his watch. 11:07. How did she know what time he'd get up? And how had he not known his coffee pot had a timer?

House got a mug and poured himself a cup of Cameron's coffee. He closed his eyes as he swallowed the first sip. It was even better at home than it was at the office. Looking around the kitchen, he also noticed that she'd washed the dishes and cleaned up the food from last night. The kitchen table was bare, save a large manila envelope with his name on it.

House put down his coffee and opened the envelope. Inside he found information on seven or eight different drug treatment facilities. There were several in the immediate area that had out patient programs, and one in Atlanta that specialized in doctors who had drug problems. Also enclosed, in typical Cameron fashion, was a pro and con list for each of the programs. As House shuffled through the pages, a smaller piece of paper fluttered to the table. House picked it up.

House,

Thought these might be helpful. I'm sure Cuddy would give you the time off. Don't worry, I won't let the boys take over your office if you go.

Cameron

P.S. Enjoying the coffee?

House shook his head. He slid the papers back into the envelope, tossed it on top of the trash, grabbed his coffee and headed back to his bedroom.

Several minutes later, he came back into the kitchen, fished the envelope out of the trash and put it back on the table.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

House entered the front doors of the hospital on Monday morning at a respectable hour. He passed the elevators and went straight to Cuddy's office. He wasn't looking forward to this meeting, but he figured it would be better to get it over with. And, if he was fired, there was no sense in working.

House opened the door and stepped into Cuddy's office without knocking. She looked up from her desk, exasperated. House opened his mouth to say something nasty, as usual, and then decided that if he wasn't fired yet, maybe he'd better just shut up for once. He sat down in one of the chairs in front of Cuddy's desk and waited.

"Good morning, Dr. House," Cuddy said.

"Cuddy," House replied.

"That's it?" Cuddy asked. "No comments about my blouse, or lack thereof?"

"Nope, turning over a new leaf," House answered.

"Right, and Satan's not really a bad guy, just misunderstood," Cuddy snarked at him. She got up from her chair and came around the desk to sit in the chair next to House.

"Greg, are you okay?" she asked.

"Fine," House replied. "So, am I fired or what?"

"No beating around the bush with you today, is there?" Cuddy asked.

"Look, I don't do the whole emotional, let's talk about our feelings and have a group hug thing. I'll work it out. Do I still have a job or don't I?" House was actually quite anxious about this. Although his contract with the board said he'd be fired for failing to complete rehab, he was pretty sure hitting an employee was a no-no.

"You do. And you can thank Dr. Cameron for it." Cuddy answered.

"Cameron?" House asked.

"Yes, Cameron. You remember her, don't you? Long brown hair, works in your office, cured your patient on Friday?" Cuddy got up, walked back behind her desk and sat down.

"I know who Cameron is. What do you mean, I owe my job to Cameron?" House demanded.

"One of the nurses saw what happened Friday afternoon. She reported it to one of the board members, instead of coming to me, and the board called an emergency meeting. They had actually just begun voting to fire you immediately, when Dr. Cameron burst in, unannounced, and told everyone that you didn't hit her." Cuddy said.

"She did what?" House asked, incredulous.

"Are you having a hearing problem today, Dr. House?" Cuddy asked. House made an impatient face at her. "She told the board that she had rushed into the patient's room to show you the most recent test results, and that she ran into you and nearly knocked you over. She then told the board that she assumed, since most of the nurses in the hospital are scared to death of you, that the nurse must have seen it was you and just assumed the worst." Cuddy smirked at the expression on House's face. One might describe it as flabbergasted? "Luckily for you, the only other people who were still here were Dr. Foreman and Dr. Chase, who, even more unbelievably, corroborated her story. After that I convinced the board to simply note your file with another complaint from the nursing staff." Cuddy looked at House, whose expression had softened slightly to astonishment.

"I can't believe she did that," House finally replied.

"Neither could I," Cuddy remarked. "Actually, one or two of the board members accused you of putting her up to it. Dr. Cameron told the board that if you found out she'd come in there to help you, you would probably fire her on the spot. Most of the board members seemed to find that believable enough."

House just nodded. He was almost speechless, a rare occurrence to say the least. Cameron was absolutely blowing his mind the past few days.

"Okay then. I guess I'll head up to my office," House stood and turned to leave.

"Oh no you don't. Clinic. Now." Cuddy commanded.

House groaned, but went to the clinic anyway. Beats getting fired, he told himself.


	25. Chapter 25

Chapter 28

After several hours in the clinic of seeing numerous patients too stupid to even make fun of, for fear he'd have to explain the jokes, House went upstairs to his office. He hadn't seen Cameron all day. He wasn't really sure if that was a good thing, or not. He was embarrassed that he'd asked her to stay Friday, and he figured she was too. After all, she had left before he even woke up on Saturday. Voices interrupted his train of thought, and he saw the ducklings entering the conference room. Foreman was holding a chart.

House got up and entered the room. All talk stopped, and two pairs of eyes bored into his back as he walked to the coffee pot. The third set of eyes dropped to the floor. House turned around, and sipping his coffee, faced his underlings. Foreman and Chase both stared at him directly. Cameron studiously avoided his gaze. After a few minutes of the staring match, House became annoyed. What were they waiting for?

"Is my fly open?" House asked.

"What?" Chase asked, bewildered.

"Well, you two are staring at me with that something-is-wrong-here look, so I assume my fly must be open. No? Something green in my teeth? Really big zit on the end of my nose?" House fired at them.

"We're waiting for you to apologize to Cameron," Foreman stated simply.

"Well, don't hold your breath. I've decided you're my new role model, and I'm going to fashion my life after you. Screw a colleague, don't apologize. That is how it goes, right?" House asked Foreman.

"I think the two situations are a little different, House," Foreman began hotly.

"Why, because what I did was an accident, but what you did was intentional? Gosh, you're right. They are different. I can see why you felt no need to apologize but think I should," House spat back at him.

"What happened between me and Cameron is totally different!" Foreman exploded.

"Hey!" a voice interrupted them. "I am sitting right here you know. I don't need you looking out for me, Foreman. I'm a big girl, and I can take care of myself. I can handle House just fine, thank you." Cameron spoke quietly, but firmly.

House stuck his tongue out at Foreman. Foreman shot Cameron an angry look, but sat down. Chase just backed himself quietly into the corner; happy for once that none of the shouting was about him.

"Is that a new case?" House asked. Cameron picked up the folder and began reading House symptoms, while he scribbled them on the whiteboard. He stood back and looked it over.

17-Year-Old Male

Fatigue

Anemia

Easily bruised

Leg spasms

"Where did you get this case?" House asked Cameron.

"The patient was referred to you by a Dr. Viking," Cameron answered.

"David Viking?" House asked.

"Yes, why?" Cameron replied.

"We went to med school together. He's an idiot. This kid has an iron deficiency." House stated.

"No, he's been treated for that. The anemia isn't any better, and now he has leg spasms." Foreman replied.

"What was the cause of the anemia?" Chase asked.

"It doesn't say," Cameron replied. "Why?"

"Well, even treatment for an iron deficiency wouldn't help if the kid is malnourished, or starving himself. And if he is, the leg spasms could be caused by a potassium deficiency." Chase suggested.

"Wow, all those doctory words in once sentence. Did you hurt yourself?" House snarked.

"Foreman, go get some new blood work. I want all these tests performed again. And get the kid something to eat. Chase, go and get a better history. I know Viking, he probably asked him where it hurts and then stopped." House ordered. The boys left to work on the new patient. Cameron waited.

"Nothing for me?" Cameron asked.

"You left." House said. It wasn't a question, but somehow demanded an answer. His voice was flat and calm, but something in his eyes told Cameron he was bothered.

"I had a lunch date, and I didn't want to wake you. Honestly, you looked like you could use the sleep." Cameron answered.

"A date with who?" House asked quickly, and then cringed. It sounded so jealous.

"Wilson," Cameron replied. "I told him I would tell him the whole story if he bought me lunch." She chuckled. "He said you must be rubbing off on me."

"So you told Wilson everything?" House asked. Somehow, if she was just telling anybody, it didn't seem like such a big deal.

"No, not the whole story. Just the basics, I had a drug problem, I got over it. I just wanted him to know that I didn't have any ulterior motives, hanging around while you were in trouble. He worries about you a lot, you know." Cameron explained.

"I know. He's worse than my mother," House joked. He fixed her with a serious look. "You've been avoiding me today."

"Not avoiding. Just giving you some space. I know you don't do the whole talking, emotional thing. I thought you might feel a little weird." Cameron shrugged. She was intentionally trying to keep this light. She didn't want him to know how deeply it had affected her that he wanted her to stay with him.

House just nodded. Once again, she surprised him. He'd just assumed she was the one who feeling weird. But rather, she knew he would, and decided to let him come to her to talk when he was ready. She seemed so different from the Cameron who had demanded a date from him a year ago. Maybe she was just getting to know him better?

"How's polio girl?" House asked.

"Responding well to the treatment. I'd say she has a good chance at a full recovery," Cameron replied happily. She was really pleased with herself for figuring out the case, and even more pleased that House had complimented her on it.

"Well then, I guess my mission is complete." House remarked.

"What mission was that?" Cameron asked.

"You disregarded my treatment orders, snuck behind my back to force a lie out of the patient's family, performed tests you knew I would never approve, solved the case with an incredibly brilliant idea and saved the day. I've turned you into me. No, Mini-me." House placed his pinky finger to the corner of his mouth and laughed menacingly.

Cameron giggled. She'd only ever seen House this relaxed once, when they were at the Monster Truck rally. It was a nice side of him.

"So that would make you Dr. Evil? How fitting." Cameron replied.

House placed a hand over his heart to indicate he was wounded. He was beginning to think maybe things with Cameron wouldn't be so bad, when her pager went off.

"Damn, I'm late for clinic duty!" She jumped up and rushed from the room.

"Obviously this means your title as Mini-me is in jeopardy!" House shouted at her back.

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Hungry, House checked his watch and realized that Wilson would probably be just entering the cafeteria now. The man was as predictable as the tides. When House had first started filching lunch from him, Wilson had actually tried to vary his lunch schedule to throw House off track. Sadly, he varied it so little, and with such a pattern, that it had taken House only a matter of a week or two to figure it out. Eventually, Wilson had given up and gone back to taking his lunch at his normal time.

House entered the cafeteria to see Wilson about two thirds of the way through the line. He reached between two nurses to grab the last Rueben, and then cut off an elderly couple to reach for a bag of chips. He settled in behind Wilson and took a can of soda. As soon as Wilson reached the cashier, House unceremoniously dumped his food on Wilson's tray and sat at a nearby table. The cashier rolled her eyes at Wilson, who handed her a $20 and took back his change. He sat at the table with House and handed him his food.

"You look like death." Wilson commented.

"No, I've met death. He's much taller," House replied around a mouthful of sandwich.

"Probably not as mean as you, either," Wilson quipped back. "Rough weekend?"

"Started better than it ended." House replied, now crunching a large handful of chips.

"You and Cameron make up?" Wilson asked. Of course, he already knew, but wanted to hear House's reaction.

"She spent the night." House said. He wanted to see what Cameron had told Wilson. Judging from the way Wilson was now choking on his salad, he guessed Cameron must have left that part out.

"She what?" Wilson sputtered.

"Spent the night. You know, wherein one person remains at the other person's house until day time?" House answered coyly.

"And?" Wilson demanded.

"And then she left." House replied. "Or more precisely, she left for a lunch date with you." House rounded on his friend and gave him a look that was not to be ignored. A look that said, don't touch my woman, even if I don't know if she is my woman yet, or if I even want her to be. Luckily, Wilson had long since learned to read these expressions.

"What happened?" Wilson asked.

"Nothing happened. She just stayed with me." House tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but apparently hadn't done a good enough job.

"That's probably for the best anyway. This isn't exactly the best time for you to be starting something with her." Wilson remarked.

"And why is that?" House asked.

"Because, you're still on your probationary period. For one thing, sleeping with an employee is a definite no-no. Not to mention you're in rehab." Wilson said. "How's that going, by the way?"

"It's only been a couple of weeks," House answered gruffly.

"That bad, huh?" Wilson asked, concerned.

"Cuddy gave me a prescription with one refill, that was supposed to get me through the next 60 days. I already refilled it." House shot Wilson a sidelong glance.

"House, you know I can't," Wilson answered the question that House hadn't asked.

House just nodded. He knew it wasn't really fair to be asking his friend anyway. He didn't want Wilson to lose his job. Besides, he needed at least one board member who didn't hate his guts, besides Cuddy.

"I'll work it out," House replied.

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House arrived outside Dr. Quigley's office for his therapy session on time, which was to say only 5 minutes late. He really did not want to go in there. He was dreading some long, drawn out conversation about Cameron, and hitting an employee and blah, blah, blah. So far the therapy sessions hadn't been bad, mostly because Quig didn't make him talk about anything special. They just talked about whatever came up. In fact, he really didn't seem much like a shrink at all, House mused. Almost like hanging out with Wilson.

Quig opened the door and startled House. House jumped, and gave him a nasty look. Quig stepped aside and let House enter the office. Immediately, House settled into one of the leather chairs and stretched out. These chairs were even more comfortable than the ones in the doctor's lounge in the Maternity Wing. It was almost worth having to talk for an hour to be able to sit here.

"See the game last night?" Quig asked.

House just stared at him. Quig stared back.

"What?" Quig said finally.

"You're not going to ask me about Cameron?" House asked.

"Do you want to talk to me about Cameron?" Quig countered.

"No," House answered.

"Is she pressing charges?" House shook his head. "Are you fired?" House shook his again. Quig just shrugged.

"So, did you see the game?" Quig repeated.

"Yeah, those bums. I knew they'd blow it in the end, they suck," House said.

"How much did you win?" Quig asked.

"Just 50 bucks," House replied. "You?"

"I lost $500," Quig moaned.

"You bet $500 on those losers!" House shouted. "Are you nuts? Maybe you need a shrink."

Quig made an obscene hand gesture at House, and House laughed. Quig looked him over.

"You look tired." Quig said.

"Rough weekend." House replied.

"Did your hooker bring a friend?" Quig asked, eyes twinkling.

"I wish." House replied. They sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Withdrawal sucks."

" I've heard that," Quig replied.

"This should be easier," House complained.

"It could be."

"Right. It could be a walk in the part. Maybe Julie Andrews would turn up and sing me a song, too." House snarked.

"I didn't say it could be easy. I said, it could be easier."

"Okay, I'll bite. How could it be easier?"

"Stop trying to do it alone," Quig said.

"That's it? That's your great advice? Wow, I can tell all the years you spent in med school really paid off." House rolled his eyes. "So you're suggesting all I need is a group hug, and everything will be okay?"

"No, what I'm suggesting is that you can't do this alone." Quig said.

"Is that your professional opinion?" House asked coldly.

"Yes."

"What kind of shrink are you?" House asked.

"The kind that's not going to hold your hand and tell you everything is going to be okay. Look, you need to decide for yourself that you want to beat this. Not because the board says you have to. I know you're stubborn, but nobody is that stubborn. You won't beat it because you don't want to. You don't think there's anything wrong with you. You function, so you're fine. Very soon, you won't be functioning. Then, maybe, you'll decide that YOU want to beat this thing. And then, you'll get the help you need, and you'll beat it. Simple. But definitely not easy." Quig looked at House. House just looked back at him. Finally, House looked away.


	26. Chapter 26

Chapter 29

Chase had finished the patient history and was in the lab with Foreman, waiting for results from their blood tests. Both Chase and Foreman were avoiding going back to the conference room. Neither wanted to run into House.

"I can't believe he wouldn't apologize," Chase finally said. "He's such a bastard."

"Does it surprise you?" Foreman asked, angrily. He was still upset that House had brought up what had happened between him and Cameron. He had apologized; House just seemed to have conveniently forgotten about it. Or maybe, he felt like Cameron did, and thought an apology on your deathbed wasn't worth as much as an unprompted one.

"I guess it shouldn't, but I never saw House as the type to hit a woman," Chase replied. "Do you think his withdrawal is really that bad?"

"Are you kidding?" Foreman asked. "Don't you remember the week he went off the Vicodin to win that bet with Cuddy? He broke his own hand just to get a little pain relief. That seems like a pretty good example to me."

"Or maybe he didn't want to talk about it in front of the two of you?" Cameron's voice said from behind, startling the both of them. Chase looked embarrassed, but Foreman just shook his head. "We settled it privately, okay?"

"Whatever," Foreman replied. Chase remained silent. The silence was becoming awkward when the test results began printing. Foreman grabbed the results and went to the conference room, the other two ducklings following.

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"He's still anemic; it's not an iron deficiency. And he's not malnourished, so the leg spasms aren't being caused by a lack of potassium," Foreman told House.

"Adam said he's lost some weight in the last few weeks, but wouldn't cop to any sort of eating disorder. He says he's just lost his appetite," Chase added.

"How much weight?" House asked.

"Five or six pounds," Chase replied.

"Not enough for this to be just dietary. Nice try though, maybe next time you'll get the brass ring," House snarked at Chase, while adding loss of appetite to the board.

"Okay, kiddies, what else causes anemia in a 17 year old?" House asked. "Come on now, don't be shy."

"What about alcohol?" Chase asked.

"He's a little young for that, isn't he?" Cameron asked.

"Oh, Dr. Cameron, ever the starry-eyed optimist. He's 17. Do you remember what you were doing at 17?" House asked. He saw Cameron stiffen, and mentally kicked himself. "Well, I'm sure I remember having a drink or two before I turned 21. Not everyone can be as innocent as you." Cameron relaxed, realizing he was just making a point.

"I'm just saying he'd have to be a pretty serious drinker to cause himself this much damage. Don't you think the parents would have noticed?" Cameron asked.

"Maybe. Maybe not. I guess that depends on whether they're idiots or not. Hmm, a parent who doesn't know everything their teenaged son is doing. How likely do you suppose that is?" House chided. "What else?"

"Depression," Cameron suggested.

"Depression wouldn't cause anemia," Foreman said.

"No, but an anti-depressant could. Or, he could be drinking and taking a lot of aspirin or other pain killer. Prolonged use can cause anemia, and depression can manifest itself with physical symptoms like fatigue and pain." Cameron said.

"How about HIV or hepatitis?" Foreman suggested. "He's seventeen, he's probably sexually active. Either of those two is likely."

"Okay," House said. "Foreman, test him for hepatitis and HIV. Chase, do an ultrasound of his liver. Cameron, get a psych consult to rule out depression." House went into his office and sat on the couch. He checked his watch and closed his eyes. He had exactly 18 Vicodin left. He figured he could get by for an absolute minimum of three a day. So, in six days it was either go cold turkey, or find a new source. At this moment, his hands showing the slightest tremble and a headache pounding out a dance beat in his head, he was strongly leaning toward a new source.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

House was still sitting on the couch in his office when the ducklings all wandered back in. None of them had particularly helpful news.

"Test was negative for HIV. The hepatitis test was inconclusive, it has to be run again." Foreman reported.

"The psych consult showed no signs of depression," Cameron added.

"Chase, what have you got for me?" House asked.

"No signs of cirrhosis, but the liver is slightly enlarged," Chase answered.

"Okay, enlarged liver," House added the new symptom to the board.

"What about CMV?" Cameron suggested.

"No rash, or fever," House said.

"Epstein-Bar," Foreman suggested.

"Doesn't explain the muscle spasms," Chase countered.

"Niemann-Pick," Cameron offered.

House tilted his head and stared at the board.

"Explains the anemia, the platelet count, fatigue" House's voice trailed off.

"And it could explain the leg spasms, if there are fatty deposits in the right spots on the brain," Foreman continued.

"Okay, start treating him for Niemann-Pick while we get the tests. I know, I know we should confirm the diagnosis, blah, blah. Treatment's quicker." House waved his hand to indicate he was done with them. As they shuffled out of the office, House called Cameron back.

"Busy tonight?"

"What did you have in mind?" Cameron asked.

"Well, what I have in mind and what you'd agree to are probably two different things. How about a movie?" House asked.

"Okay, your place?"

"6:30," House replied. "And I'll take care of dinner."

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Cameron arrived at House's apartment about fifteen minutes early. She was just about to knock on the door when she realized the music she was hearing was coming from inside. She stopped, listening. She knew House played the piano of course, but had never really heard him. He was amazing. She just stood outside his door and listened. She stood and listened for about ten minutes, until an older couple checking their mail gave her an odd look. She knocked on the door and the music stopped.

"It's open, come on in," House called, getting up from the piano. Cameron opened the door and saw him.

"You don't have to stop playing on my account," she said as she took off her coat.

"I don't really like playing for an audience," House replied.

"That's a shame," Cameron said. "An audience would really appreciate it."

House raised an eyebrow at her.

"You were listening."

"I was early."

House nodded and motioned toward the kitchen. Cameron looked at him questioningly, but went into the kitchen. She came back out with an amazed look.

"You cooked."

"You thought I didn't know how?" House smirked at her.

"I've seen what's in your refrigerator and your cabinets. I sort of assumed you lived on soup and peanut butter," Cameron replied.

"Cooking for one person is too much work," House answered simply.

"Is it edible?" Cameron asked, playfully.

House made a face at her, and went into the kitchen. He served their dinner, a simple stir-fry and rice, and pushed Cameron back toward the living room. He sat on the couch and she followed. House grabbed the remote control and pushed a few buttons.

"What are we watching?" Cameron asked.

"Sshh, you'll miss something," House answered.

"It's the FBI warning," Cameron countered. "What are we watching?"

House just shook his head at her. Cameron rolled her eyes in frustration, and tentatively took a bite of her dinner. She was surprised to find it was actually quite good. House was watching her; she looked at him and grinned. House gave a satisfied nod and began eating as well. Just then, the previews ended and the movie began.

"Ferris Bueller's Day Off?" Cameron sputtered.

"What, you don't like this?" House asked.

"No, I think it's hilarious. I just didn't think you'd like it." Cameron replied.

"Too juvenile? No, that can't be it. Too outrageous? Probably not that either. You think I wouldn't like a move about an arrogant character who bucks the system and plays by his own rules? Yes, I can see why you think I wouldn't like this." House gave her his 'duh' face.

"Sorry, I guess I'm just not used to you wanting to, you know, laugh and have fun," Cameron replied, dryly.

"Hey, I'm tons of fun. Just ask Wilson about the time I made him wet his pants." House said.

"You did not," Cameron said.

"Putting somebody's hand in warm water while they're sleeping actually works," House replied. He intentionally kept his face serious, and then grinned at Cameron's reaction. She was giggling, like a teenager. It was adorable.

They watched the rest of the movie in relative silence, punctured only by chuckles, giggles and one spectacular laughing fit on Cameron's part that led to a pretty good laugh from House as well. When it was over, Cameron decided this was her new favorite movie. Anything that could make House's eyes dance like that was worth watching over and over. House decided next time he'd rent something really ridiculous, like maybe Airplane! or The Naked Gun, if it would make Cameron relax and laugh like that.

She turned to make a comment to him about how nice it was to see him laughing at the same moment he turned to snark at her that she'd finally unclenched. Their eyes locked, and neither of them could speak. They stared at each other, both searching for something. The air in the room seemed to thicken. There was tension mounting, but neither of them was capable of breaking it.


	27. Chapter 27

Chapter 30

He didn't think about. He just leaned forward and kissed her. It was quick, but electric. He pulled back slightly and looked at her. His heart was pounding; his stomach was fluttering. He could feel all the hairs on the back of neck standing up. He realized that he was holding his breath. He tried to breathe normally, but a quiet pant was about the best he could manage. He couldn't tear his eyes away from hers. He searched her eyes deeply for her reaction.

He'd kissed her. She was totally unprepared. She'd thought about kissing him so often. She'd always imagined it would be slow, that it would have that quality time sometimes has of stretching itself out. But it was quick, startling. And it sucked all the breath out of her body. He'd pulled his face back only inches, and was staring into her eyes intently. She finally took another breath, and noticed her pulse was racing. Her stomach was churning with excitement and anticipation. She stared into his piercing blue eyes, looking for some sign as to what he was thinking.

As if by some agreement, they leaned into each other again. This time their kiss was slow and soft. Cameron closed her eyes. She couldn't possibly kiss him and look into his eyes at the same time. She wouldn't be able to continue breathing. She already felt slightly lightheaded. House, however, couldn't take his eyes off her face. He didn't want to miss a second of this.

The slow, soft kiss ended. It was replaced by a kiss more urgent, passionate. House inched closer to Cameron on the couch and reached his hands into her long, dark hair. It was the sort of hair you just wanted to lose your hands in. At least, he'd always wanted to lose his hands in it. He pulled her closer to him and their kiss deepened. Their mouths opened and they began to tease each other with their tongues, lightly at first, and then more fiercely.

Cameron reached her hand out and touched House's face, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. She gloried in the feel of his stubble; she'd often longed to feel it on her body. She felt one of House's hands slide from her hair down her neck, running along her spine and settling itself at the small of her back. Cameron let her free hand drop to his thigh, and thrilled at the shiver she felt in him. She chanced to open her eyes, and saw that he had closed his.

House's eyes had slipped closed when Cameron had begun touching his face. Her touch was so soft, and delicate, it made his skin tingle. When she placed her other hand on his leg, he shivered. He could feel the heat in her hands even through his jeans. He wondered how it would feel to have his skin touch her skin without a barrier. He moved the hand that was now at the small of her back, and slipped it under her sweater. He slid his hand around her waist, and was quite certain that his fingers had caught fire.

Cameron felt House's hand reach under her sweater and slide around her waist. The contact was electrifying, and enough for her to break their kiss. She was out of breath and flushed. She pushed herself back on the couch and tried to compose herself. She trained her eyes away from his; she knew this was going to be difficult, and she wouldn't be able to resist if she let herself look at him.

"I can't," she panted. Cameron took a very deep breath, held it for a count of three, and then blew it out slowly, just like she'd been taught to do when trying to avoid fainting. "This is a bad idea right now."

House just stared at her, confusion on his face slowly being replaced by anger. He closed his eyes and also took a very deep breath. He willed himself to speak calmly.

"You've been talking to Wilson again," he said.

"No, I just think maybe this is too fast. Or too soon. Or something, I don't know," Cameron said. She was confused, and having trouble keeping her thoughts straight. She turned to look at him. His eyes seemed to melt her. She could already feel herself being pulled toward him. She stood up and stepped to the other side of the couch, hoping that maybe a little physical distance would help clear her head.

"It's been two years," House said quietly. "This is too fast? Maybe you've just changed your mind." Cameron turned to look at him, hurt. Did he really think that? Hadn't he felt what she felt?

"Did it seem like I didn't want to?" she choked. House just stared at her. "I didn't say I didn't want to. You have no idea how I want you," her cheeks flushed.

"Then what's the problem?" House asked, standing. Cameron looked almost afraid to answer. "It's the rehab. You think it's a bad idea because I'm in rehab."

"Yes," Cameron replied, almost too quiet to hear. "I think you have enough to deal with right now. Starting a new relationship is hard work, and it takes a lot of time. I don't want you focusing on me right now. I want you focusing on you. I can wait."

"Sure, because there aren't a hundred other guys waiting for you to decide I'm not worth it," House hissed at her.

"I don't want a hundred other guys," she shouted at him. "I want you."

"But only after I've finished rehab," House shouted back.

"I don't care about the rehab," she screamed at him. "I care about you. And if you don't get through the rehab because of me, do you thing we'd stand a chance?"

House dropped his eyes. He knew she was right. If something went wrong with Cameron, he'd go straight back to the pills, and then blame her for his failure. It was too similar to what had happened with Stacy. He'd shut her out when he couldn't get past his disability. Granted the disability was partly her fault, but the other part was his own stubborn inability to listen to someone else's opinion. And somehow he knew if he failed at rehab he would make it Cameron's fault too.

"I can wait," Cameron repeated.

"You shouldn't have to," House mumbled to the floor. Cameron crossed the floor and placed her hand under his chin. She forced his head up from the floor until he was looking into her eyes.

"But I will," Cameron said.


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 31

House walked into an empty conference room the next morning. He'd half hoped that Cameron would be there so he could talk to her before the boys arrived. He noticed there was no coffee made. He glanced at Cameron's desk and saw no laptop, and no coat.

Chase came in to the conference room behind him, followed by Foreman. Both boys looked at the coffee pot, disappointed. Chase looked at his watch, it was past nine.

"Cameron's not here yet?" Chase asked. "She's never late."

"It's barley past nine," Foreman said. "She's not that late. Maybe she got hung up downstairs getting the mail."

"How's the patient?" House asked to hide his concern. It was very unlike Cameron to be late. She was usually the first one in.

"Not responding to treatment," Foreman answered.

"It's still early, the treatment hasn't had enough time," House replied.

"Or, we're treating him for the wrong thing," Foreman suggested. "He's showing decreased respiratory function."

"That still fits Niemann-Pick," House said.

"Yeah, but if this was the right treatment he shouldn't be getting new symptoms," Foreman countered. "The diagnosis is wrong."

"Do you have a better one?" House asked. Foreman shook his head. "Then we stick with this treatment until something else changes."

Foreman and Chase left the room to attend to the patient. House picked up a marker and wrote decreased respiratory function on the whiteboard. He sat in one of the chairs and stared at the board. He was distracted and couldn't concentrate. Where was Cameron?

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Cameron had been the first one in that morning, as usual. She just didn't want anyone to notice her. She hadn't slept well last night, and she looked like hell. Normally she wouldn't care, but today she didn't think she could fend off questions about what was wrong with her usual skill. House had kissed her. And then, naturally, everything fell apart. She meant what she said; she would wait for him. But would he still want her?

She certainly wasn't ready to see him yet. So, she'd waited down the hall until she saw the boys file out of the conference room. She caught up with them and checked in. Neither of them noticed anything unusual. She'd gone with Chase to check on Adam while Foreman went to the lab to check out the latest round of blood work. Adam wasn't improving as he should be, and Cameron was beginning to doubt if her diagnosis had been correct.

Cameron told Chase that she was going to get her clinic hours out the way early today, and to page her if he needed anything. She didn't actually have clinic duty today, so she signed in for House. It wasn't as if she was in any danger of running into him there. It was the perfect place to avoid him.

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"House!" Cuddy shouted.

House dragged his eyes open with a Herculean effort. He hadn't slept well after Cameron left the night before. Actually, he's spent most of the night sitting at the piano, alternately drinking and playing until he'd finally gone to bed around 3am. He had put some quiet, classical piano on his Ipod and just managed to fall asleep when the evil one began shouting.

"Why is Dr. Cameron working your clinic hours?" Cuddy demanded.

"Well, I have no idea," House replied in his best southern belle accent. "I haven't seen Cameron all morning. Maybe she was bored. The patients are being seen, aren't they?"

"That's not the point. Get down there now and work your own clinic hours," Cuddy barked. "And give me that," she continued, snatching the Ipod from him.

"Evil witch," House grumbled, getting up.

"Watch it, or I'll shove my broomstick somewhere very uncomfortable," Cuddy warned.

"Promise?" House asked suggestively.

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House walked into the clinic and signed in. He asked the nurse at the desk where he could find Dr. Cameron. She told him Dr. Cameron was doing a prostate exam in room four. House wanted to talk to her, but not that badly. He asked the nurse at the desk to have Dr. Cameron sign out of the clinic and then wait for him in his office when she finished with her patient. House took the next chart from the pile and went to treat yet another sore throat.

Cameron stepped out of the exam room and walked to the nurse's station. The nurse at the desk told her to sign out and wait in Dr. House's office. Cringing, Cameron did as she was told. Of all the days for him to actually show up in the clinic, she thought to herself. She asked the nurse how many hours Dr. House would be working today. The nurse responded three, and Cameron thanked her.

Cameron went to her desk first and took out her Ipod. Then she went to House's office and started working on some backed up paperwork. She settled onto the couch, and had gotten little more than a third of the way through the pile when she fell asleep.

House came back to his office just before lunch, prepared to have a talk with Cameron about not letting any personal stuff interfere with their work. When he walked into his office, he found her sleeping on the couch, surrounded by piles of paperwork. He looked at her for a few minutes, and noticed the dark circles under her eyes. I guess she didn't get much sleep last night either, he thought. He decided his talk with her could wait. Instead, he went to find Wilson and get some lunch.

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"You want to tell me something," Wilson said, trying to slap House's hands away from his chips.

"What makes you say that?" House asked, reaching with his other hand and grabbing half of Wilson's sandwich instead.

"Because you came down too late for me to buy you lunch. You only do that when you can't decide if you want to talk to me or not," Wilson said knowingly.

House rolled his eyes, but looked away. He did want to talk to Wilson, but he knew what Wilson was going to say and he wasn't really sure he wanted to hear it.

"I kissed her," House said.

Wilson let out a sigh. He had a feeling it was going to be something along those lines. He wanted to craft his answer carefully.

"And?" he asked.

"And then we got into an argument," House said.

"About what?" Wilson asked.

"She thinks it's not a good idea," House answered.

"Maybe she's right," Wilson said slowly.

"Maybe. Maybe I'm just tired of being told what's good for me. Don't you people think I know what's good for me?" House growled.

Wilson didn't answer that one. He didn't want to start a fight; they'd just finally started talking again. He just waited for House to continue. Sometimes it was best to let him come around to something on his own.

"She said she'd wait for me," House said. Wilson's questioning glance told him he wasn't exactly clear. "Until I'm done with the rehab. She said she'd wait."

Wilson just nodded. Maybe that would be incentive enough for House to get serious about his rehab. Although, he doubted it. He knew House needed a reason that was about him, not about someone else.

"Good kiss?" Wilson asked, raising an eyebrow.

House's face, a strange mix of satisfaction and frustration, was all the answer Wilson needed.

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House went back to his office after lunch with Wilson. Cameron was still sleeping on the couch. House sat behind his desk, rolled up a few pieces of paper and started throwing them at her. After finally bouncing one off her nose, Cameron woke with a jump. She sat up and gave House a guilty smile.

"Sleeping on the job. That seems so unlike you, Dr. Cameron," House said lightly.

"Well, I don't want to loose my title as Mini-me," Cameron replied slyly.

House grinned. He loved that she was getting better at keeping up with him. It just made teasing her so much more fun.

"About yesterday," House began, but hesitated. He scratched his thumb across his forehead and looked at the floor.

Chase walked into the office just as House was about to say something else. He glanced at Cameron, who looked both relieved and disappointed.

"Adam's kidneys are shutting down," Chase announced. House frowned. He got up from the desk and walked into the conference room. Foreman joined them as House wrote impaired kidney function on the board. The four stared at it, as if trying to make it tell them something.

"Niemann-Pick doesn't present with kidney problems," Chase finally said.

"It could be a result of his medications," Cameron suggested, not quite ready to give up on her diagnosis.

"Or it's not Niemann-Pick," Foreman said sarcastically.

"Do another round of blood work," House said, "and repeat the ultrasound. There something else going on in there." The ducklings all rose to leave the room.

"Cameron," House called. She stopped and looked at him questioningly. Did he really want to talk about this now?

"Can I borrow your Ipod?"

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House was lying on the floor, his legs propped up on his desk, Cameron's Ipod blaring some incredibly loud music, when the ducklings came back to the room. House sighed and turned off the music. He stood and proceeded into the conference room for a cup of coffee, the ducklings following closely behind.

"And?" House said, searching the countertop for a packet of …sugar, which Cameron handed him before pouring herself a cup of coffee. He smirked.

"Nothing new in the blood work," Cameron told him.

"But the ultrasound shows his spleen is enlarged, as well as his liver," Foreman reported.

"I think we should do a bone density scan," Chase suggested.

House looked at the board, then back at Chase.

"I'm impressed. But we have nothing to compare it to," House said.

"He's a football player," Chase answered, "but he's never had a broken bone. I think we're pretty safe in saying he would have been normal before this."

"Very good, Dr. Chase. There may be hope for you yet. Make it so," House commanded, sitting at the table. Chase left to see about the test.

"A bone density test?" Cameron asked.

"Gaucher's," House replied.

"Damn," Cameron sighed.

"Gaucher's is treatable. That's good news," Foreman said.

"Yes, but it means our dear Dr. Cameron missed the diagnosis," House replied, seeing Cameron still silently berating herself.

"I'll go talk to the family," Foreman said, leaving the room.

"Give yourself a break Cameron, you can't solve every case," House said.

"I know, but…" she let her voice trail off, sitting in the chair next to him.

"What?" House asked.

"I hate it when Chase figures it out before me," Cameron whined. House smirked. "I don't mind when Foreman gets it, well, I don't mind as much. And I certainly don't mind when you do it, but Chase?"

"If it makes you feel any better, I would have suggested the scan if Chase hadn't," House said. "The music always helps me think."

"Maybe I should start using it at work then," Cameron lamented.

"Speaking of music," House began. "What is this?" He held her Ipod out for her to see.

"Oh," Cameron said, blushing slightly. She knew full well that he knew what it was; he was just playing with her. "It's a play list," she answered innocently.

"Let me be more clear," House continued, a sparkle in his eye. She was toying with him. "There are three play lists here marked 'House'. Now, what would these be for?"

"Well," Cameron began, moving her chair closer to him, "this first one if for when I'm angry with you." She reached her hand out and closed it over his so that she could scroll through the songs on the list. House shifted in his chair a little, she was definitely teasing him now, with her hand over his. He glanced at the songs, recognizing enough of the titles to get a sense for the loud, screaming music she wanted to listen to when she was annoyed with him.

"Uh, huh," House replied, sliding his chair a little closer to hers. Two could play at this game, he thought. He scooted closer still, until their thighs and shoulders were close enough to graze each other.

"The second one is for when I'm trying to figure you out," Cameron said, leaning close enough for her breath to tickle the side of his face when she spoke. She grinned when she noticed the goose bumps that sprung up on his neck.

"And the third list?" House asked. He was concentrating on getting his free hand onto Cameron's leg, and missed the grin that appeared on her face. Got him, she thought.

"The third one?" Cameron asked, slowly. "Well," she drawled, "the third one I use for a very special reason." She began scrolling through the list, and was thrilled to see House blushing as he took in the theme of most of the songs. "I only listen to this list at home," Cameron continued, dropping her voice slightly. "When I'm alone, and it's late, and I'm thinking of things that a nice girl shouldn't think about her boss. I close my eyes and dream of having my wicked way with you, and, well, I'm sure you can fill in the blanks," she concluded.

House swallowed, hard. He turned to look at her, caught the self-satisfied look on her face and realized he'd been had. He never thought he'd see such a wicked grin on her face. It was almost, devilish. She slid the Ipod from his hand, blew him a kiss and dropped a wink, and then left him there. He leaned his back to stare at the ceiling, exhaling a long sigh.

Wilson walked past Cameron in the hall, and noted the expression. He couldn't recall ever having seen her looking quite so pleased with herself. He paused, but then shook his head and continued down the hall, passing the conference room. He paused again however, when he took note of House, staring at the ceiling and looking, bemused?

"What's Cameron looking so pleased about?" Wilson asked.

House dropped his head nearly to his chest, and Wilson could swear he saw the remnants of a blush on the man's cheeks. What were the two of them up to in here?

"Let's just say that young Dr. Cameron is every bit as capable of lechery as I am," House replied. Wilson merely gawked at him.

"You do know the walls are made of glass, don't you?" Wilson finally said.

"Oh, take it easy, Wilson," House replied. "Nothing happened. She wants to wait, remember? Apparently, she wants to torture me while she makes me wait."

"So why do you look so happy about it?" Wilson asked.

"Because, it's so like something I would do. I respect that," House answered. "And, I think I'll be having some very pleasant dreams tonight." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"Okay, I get the point. Cameron is one thing, but I definitely don't need pictures of you floating around up here," Wilson said. "You busy tonight? I thought maybe you'd want to watch the game."

"Sure," House said. Today had gone well with Cameron. Maybe it would be best not to ruin it by having a talk.


	29. Chapter 29

Chapter 32

House, Foreman and Chase sat in the conference room, not staring at each other. House checked his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. It was now 9:30, and Cameron had not come in. Nor had she called. Had it been Foreman or Chase running late, House would have been mildly annoyed, yet hoping they would give some lame excuse he could use to torment them. Being that it was Cameron who was late, House was concerned. Which, naturally, made him act overly annoyed.

"Maybe we should call to check on her," Chase suggested. "It's not like her to be late without calling."

"I'm sure she's fine," Foreman said. "She'd probably just be pissed at us for checking up on her." Foreman and Cameron were still not on the best of terms, and he really saw no need to give her a reason to be angry with him.

The phone in House's office began to ring. Although he wanted to jump to answer it, hoping it was Cameron, he forced himself to walk slowly into his office and answer the phone. Checking the caller ID, he could see that it was Cameron, and she was calling from home. He pressed the speakerphone button.

"Dr. Cameron. Did we oversleep this morning?" House asked, a little more snidely than was really necessary. He didn't want the boys to hear any concern in his voice.

"No, we spent the morning throwing up everything we've ever eaten," Cameron said. She sounded horrible.

"You're sick?" House asked, stupidly.

"No, I just missed throwing up, it's been a long time," Cameron growled. "Of course I'm sick. Aren't you supposed to be a doctor?"

Foreman and Chase both grinned. Sick Cameron was not a happy Cameron.

"Well, I'm going down to the clinic," Foreman said. "Feel better Cameron," he shouted in the direction of the phone.

"Hope you're better soon," Chase said loudly. He walked back into the conference room, picked up a chart and went to check how the latest patient was responding to treatment. House sat behind the desk and picked up the receiver.

"Are you okay?" he asked, showing his concern now that no one was there to hear it.

"I'll be fine," Cameron said softly. She sounded incredibly tired.

"Fever?" House asked.

"103," Cameron replied.

"Can you keep down some ibuprofen?" House asked.

"I can't even keep down water," Cameron replied. "House, I'm a doctor too. I'll be fine. I have lots of Gatorade, and crackers and toast. Don't worry about me."

"Can't help it," House mumbled. "Do you want me to bring you some soup later?"

"No, stay away from me. Whatever I've got is nasty and you really don't want to catch it. The last thing you need in rehab is a virus. I'll be fine, I promise. I'm just going to take my pillow and go sleep on the bathroom floor."

"Why?"

"Because getting up every ten minutes to puke is making me dizzy," Cameron said, very softly. "Uh, gotta go," she said suddenly and the phone went dead.

House shook his head and hung up the receiver. She was right, of course. The last thing he wanted was to catch some stomach virus. Especially when he was down to his last four Vicodin. If he stretched himself out to only two a day, that still only meant two days. House looked up from the desk to see Wilson standing the doorway.

"Cameron's sick?" he asked.

"How did you know it was Cameron?" House asked.

"Because I can't imagine who else you'd offer to bring soup to," Wilson teased. "So, it looks like you're back to the bachelor life for a few days."

"Yeah, great. She was starting to cramp my style anyway. She'd never go for a threesome with Paula," House snarked, picking up his tennis ball and tossing it at Wilson.

"Paula?" Wilson asked. "Oh, your hooker. Right, I can't image why Cameron would turn that down." He tossed the ball back to House. "So, how's it going?"

House didn't need to ask what Wilson meant. He took out his Vicodin bottle and showed it to his friend. Four little white pills rattled inside the bottle.

"I think its about to get very ugly." House said, frowning.

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Day One

House sat in his office, blinds drawn, doors locked. He had a headache, was he was shaky and felt a little nauseous. If he didn't know he was on his first day without Vicodin, he might have thought he'd caught the same bug as Cameron. There were no cases, so he decided it would be best to hide out in his office as long as possible. He kicked his legs up on his desk, tilted his head back and closed his eyes. With a little luck, he might be able to fall asleep.

Foreman and Chase had agreed to cover his clinic hours when he told them he was feeling a little under the weather. They'd agreed because he actually did look sick. They decided he was coming down with whatever Cameron had, and it was only a matter of time before he went home. Actually, they were quite looking forward to it. A day without House meant a day of peace and quiet.

Wilson was standing on the balcony, looking into House's office. There were no blinds on that door, so he could see his friend leaning back in his chair with his legs propped up on his desk. To an ordinary observer, he looked like he was catching a nap at work. Not an unusual event. But to an extraordinary observer, which Wilson certainly was when it came to House, something was very wrong. Wilson noticed the right hand, steadily tapping on the side of the chair. Since Wilson knew he had no cases, it meant something else was bothering him. But, since he wasn't watching TV, playing his Gameboy or catch with the tennis ball, it wasn't something he needed to think about. It meant withdrawal.

Cuddy noticed that Foreman and Chase were covering for House in the clinic. But, having discussed this very issue over dinner with Wilson the night before, she decided to let it go. Cuddy knew House was out of Vicodin, and that House in withdrawal plus clinic patients meant bad news. She sighed as she sifted through a mountain of paperwork on her desk. She also knew from Wilson that House and Cameron seemed to have struck up a strange sort of friendship over the past few weeks. Of all the unlucky times for Cameron to get sick, Cuddy thought to herself.

Cameron was lying on the couch, just three running steps to bathroom as compared to the ten or so from her bedroom, not really watching TV. It was Wednesday, and she was finally able to keep down some toast and tea. Her temperature was down to 99 degrees. With a little luck, she'd be able to go back to work on Friday. She was a little surprised House hadn't called to check on her yet today. He'd called her Monday afternoon before going home, on Tuesday morning and then Tuesday at dinnertime to make sure she was okay. She wondered if maybe they'd gotten a new case? That would be good for him; it would give him something to occupy his mind with. She closed her eyes, and drifted to sleep.

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Day Two

House was once again lying down in his office. This time he'd chosen the chair, because it seemed marginally more comfortable than the floor. He'd barely slept at all the night before, and was feeling more miserable than normal. Well, more miserable than normal for him anyway. He was especially not looking forward to his therapy appointment the following afternoon. The most noticeable symptom of this withdrawal, worse than the headaches, the shakes and the constant nausea was his inability to control his emotions. He'd spent the last six years self-medicating not just his physical pain, but his emotional pain as well. Only two days off the Vicodin, and his mood was swinging from near rage to tears with frightening swiftness. If it wasn't for the fact that he was holed up in his office, he was quite sure he would have cried or punched someone. God, he thought to himself, no wonder Cameron is always so cranky at that time of the month.

Foreman and Chase were once again covering House's clinic hours. Foreman had grumbled a bit, feeling that if House was really that sick he should have just stayed home. Foreman went to Cuddy, and was unpleasantly surprised when she basically told him to suck it up and see the patients. Foreman didn't particularly care what was wrong with House. He felt like he was being taken advantage of, and House was being a jerk.

Chase watched House avoid the coffee pot while making his way through the conference room into his office. He watched House lock his doors and close the blinds. Chase listened to Foreman's ranting, but wisely said nothing. Detox was something he recognized. You couldn't spend years taking care of an alcoholic mother and not see the symptoms right in front of you. He didn't want to piss House off right now. This was going to be ugly.

Wilson spent another lunch hour staring at House from the balcony. He didn't have the best view today, since House was lying on the chair and not behind his desk, but he could see enough. No TV, no music. House obviously had a headache. No food and no soda or coffee. That meant nausea and caffeine sensitivity. And no playing catch or Gameboy, that meant shaky hands. Wilson also noticed House wiping his eyes occasionally. He suspected that meant crying. Wilson shook his head; this was not going to be good. Not good at all.

Cuddy brought a salad in for Wilson and one for herself. She knew he would have spent his lunch watching House through the window. They sat in his office and talked. They were both worried about him. Wilson said Cameron had called him that afternoon. Her fever was back up and she wasn't going to be in to work the following day. That meant the entire week and weekend House was going to be alone. Cuddy sighed and pushed her salad around in the container. This was going to be bad.

Cameron was once again sleeping on her bathroom floor. She'd managed to keep down enough liquids over the past day to avoid dehydration, but apparently she pushed a little too hard, and was now paying the price. She had wanted to get back to work, especially after she'd talked to Wilson. She knew House was out of Vicodin, and had spent the past two days locked in his office. She was worried. She remembered how this was, and she didn't want him to be alone. But, she was hardly in any condition to help.

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Day Three - In the Clinic

House was in the clinic, seeing patients. When he'd come in that morning and ordered Chase and Foreman to cover his hours, Foreman had refused. He'd said if House was really that sick, that he should go home and not just sit around his office gloating over the fact that they were working while he was slacking off. Chase had quietly backed into a corner of the room, wanting no part of this. House turned his back and closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths. Chase noticed his fists clenching and unclenching at his sides, and had haltingly offered to cover all the hours himself.

House shot him a look of pure venom, and Chase backed off. House dropped his bag in his office and went to the clinic without saying a word to Foreman. He couldn't trust himself. He wasn't really sure he could scream at him without crying, or look at him without trying to knock out a few teeth.

Cuddy was so surprised to see House in the clinic that morning that she called Wilson in a panic and accused him of giving House a Vicodin prescription. Wilson denied it, but said he would come down and keep an eye on him. With a quick stop in Cuddy's office, Wilson was sent off to monitor House and his patients, without telling House what he was up to.

House noticed Wilson hanging around the clinic, but not actually seeing patients. At first he was angry; he suspected Wilson was keeping an eye on him. But then he noticed Wilson talking to one of the younger nurses and decided maybe he was being paranoid. Wilson was just looking to get lucky, was that so hard to believe?

House stopped at the nurse's station to check on the results of a strep test he'd administered to a teenaged boy in exam room three. He gave Wilson a look, but Wilson was currently occupied with the blonde nurse at the next computer terminal, and didn't react. House smirked to himself. Typical Wilson, he thought. He took the test results from the lab, the kid was positive for strep. House grabbed the file, glanced at it quickly and went back to exam room four. He wrote the kid a prescription for penicillin, pointed him in the direction of the pharmacy and went back to the nurse's station to grab his next file.

Wilson, waiting until after House gone to exam room one to see his next patient, took the file and carefully looked it over. A concerned look spread over his face as his eyes darted quickly over the patient's history. He dropped the file on the desk and sprinted toward the pharmacy. Wilson grabbed the kid just as he was about to take one of the pills the pharmacist had handed him. He walked the boy back to the clinic and put him in an exam room, then went to find House.

"House," Wilson said, sticking his head in the exam room, "Need a consult."

"I'm with a patient," House said without turning around.

"This really can't wait," Wilson said, his tone serious.

House turned and eyed him skeptically. Wilson wasn't working in the clinic. Maybe this meant a new patient?

"Excuse me," House told the patient and stepped into the hall.

"Are you okay?" Wilson asked.

"Fine," House said. "Who needs the consult?"

"Exam room three," Wilson said, opening the door to reveal the kid House had just finished with.

"No, I just gave that kid a prescription for penicillin, he has strep throat. And why are you looking at my patient?" House demanded.

"Because," Wilson said quietly, closing the exam room door, "I don't think you should be seeing patients right now. You gave him penicillin, did you look at his history?"

"I glanced at it, what's the big deal?" House asked.

"The big deal," Wilson said, "is the kid had an anaphylactic reaction to amoxicillin last year. Unless you want him to go home and die, penicillin is a bad choice."

"He's allergic to penicillin?" House said. He grabbed the chart from Wilson. "You looked at the wrong chart, this kid is …" House's voice trailed off as he looked at the file, "allergic to penicillin." He shook his head. "How did I miss that?"

"Do I really need to answer that?" Wilson asked. "Go in there and give him a prescription for erythromycin, then fix the chart. If somebody else saw this, you'd be subject to a review board. Do you want to do that right now?"

House just stared at Wilson blankly. How could he miss something so basic? What was wrong with him? He shook his head to clear it.

"Why are you checking my files?" House demanded.

"I'm worried about you, about something exactly like this. Go fix it, and then go home." Wilson said.

"Did Cuddy ask you to do this? Cameron?" House pushed.

"House," Wilson warned.

"It isn't paranoid if people are actually following you around," House seethed. He knew Wilson was right; he just hated it. He took the file from Wilson and went back into exam room three. He told the kid he'd given him the wrong prescription, and replaced it with one for erythromycin. House left the exam room, threw the file on the nurse's station and left the clinic.

Cuddy watched from her office. When House was in the stairwell, she came out to Wilson.

"What happened?" Cuddy asked.

"He prescribed penicillin to a patient with a history of penicillin allergy," Wilson said.

"I'll take him off clinic duty until he gets this under control. Thanks for checking on him, Jimmy," Cuddy said.

"It's okay, Lisa. He'll be okay. He has to be okay." Wilson said it as much to convince her as to convince himself. This was going to be really bad.


	30. Chapter 30

Chapter 3

Day Three – In Therapy

House sat in the brown leather chair, staring intently at the chessboard on the table. Quig sat opposite him, staring just as intently at House.

"This isn't going to work," House said.

"I could have told you that three moves ago," Quig replied. House shook his head.

"The rehab."

"I know."

House looked up in surprise. Quig continued to study him, but said nothing. You couldn't push House to talk; you had to wait for him.

"How do you know?"

"Are you asking as a friend, or do you want my professional opinion?" Quig asked.

"Both," House answered.

"Well, as your friend, I'd say that I don't think its going to work because you won't ask for any help. You're embarrassed, or you think people won't respect you if you admit you can't do it by yourself. And I'd say that I really wish you would ask, because I would help you." Quig said.

"And your professional opinion would be what?" House asked.

"Trust," Quig replied. He leaned forward and moved his queen.

"That's it," House said. "That's your brilliant, professional insight? Wow, I can sure see why they pay you the big bucks." House reached to the board to move a pawn.

"If you can't trust people, you certainly can't ask them for help. Everybody lies, right. And so, everybody screws up and nobody can be trusted." Quig looked at House for confirmation, while picking up his bishop and making another move.

"And how does that song go? People who need people are the luckiest people in world, right?" House quipped. He moved quickly, almost angrily.

"You don't even trust yourself," Quig answered.

"That doesn't even make sense," House complained. He watched Quig move another piece on the chessboard. "Don't trust myself to do what?"

"You don't trust yourself to feel things. It's led you to nothing but pain. It's why you distanced yourself from your parents, from your last girlfriend, from Dr. Cameron and why you've been self-medicating for the last six years. If you can't feel anything, you don't have to trust yourself. Makes for a very uncomplicated life. Also lonely and boring." Quig looked at House. "Your move."

"My life isn't boring," House countered, moving another piece quickly.

"No, your work isn't boring. What about your life outside the hospital?" Quig studied the board, looking at House again. He moved another piece. "Do you trust Dr. Cameron?"

"Sure, she'd a good doctor. She's a little emotional, but she's getting that under control," House answered. He moved his queen again, taking one of Quig's pieces.

"I don't mean as a doctor. I mean Allison Cameron. Do you trust her? Would you trust her with you?" House just looked at him.

"You're afraid of her," Quig said.

"That's ridiculous," House replied.

"No, it isn't. In fact, it comes right down to the problem. You're afraid of her, and you're afraid of you with her. You're afraid, because you're falling in love," Quig moved a last piece. "Checkmate."

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Day Four

House sat at the piano, his fingers torturing the keys mercilessly. He had been playing for hours, trying to keep his mind off his withdrawal and Cameron. His fingers finally began to cramp and he was forced to stop playing. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He stood up from the piano and went to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. He was still having headaches and shakes, but the nausea had at least subsided enough for him to eat. He made himself a peanut butter sandwich and then sat on the couch to watch some TV. Just then, the telephone rang. House ignored it, in no mood to speak to anyone.

"You have reached a number that is no longer in service. Please hang up, but don't redial," House's answering machine said.

"House? Are you there? Pick up the phone, I know you're home." Wilson's voice paused as he waited for House to pick up the phone. "House?" Wilson let out a long sigh. "Fine, don't pick up. I'll just keep calling." The machine beeped when Wilson hung up.

Several minutes went by, and the phone rang again. House gave an annoyed growl. Apparently Wilson was serious about constantly calling. House was about to pick up the receiver and hang up on Wilson when the machine answered again.

"House?" Cameron's voice asked. "Are you okay? Jimmy called and wanted to know if I'd heard from you. He seemed kind of upset. Did you two have a fight about something?" House closed his eyes and let Cameron's voice wash over him. "Well, I know you don't want to talk about it, so I'll just tell Jimmy to drop by and check on you…" Cameron let her voice trail off. House groaned and then lifted the receiver.

"I don't want to talk to Wilson," House said.

"I know that. That's why I was going to tell him to stop by," Cameron answered.

"Hey, I thought you liked me," House said in a wounded voice.

"What ever gave you that idea?" Cameron laughed softly. "Are you okay? Jimmy's either really upset with you or really worried about you."

"I'm fine," House sighed. "Just had a rough day yesterday, that's all. You know Jimmy, he worries about everything."

"No, I know he worries about you. You're not getting sick, are you?"

"No, despite swapping spit, I don't have any of your germs," House quipped.

"Ha, ha. Sometimes your wit is astoundingly like what I remember from the fifth grade," Cameron replied.

"Ouch! You sound better," House commented.

"I'm okay. I'm still tired, but I'll be back to work on Monday," Cameron said.

"Good, Chase's coffee is awful," House replied. He would be glad to see back to work.

"Aw, did you miss me?" Cameron teased.

"You'll never get me to admit it," House answered.

"Fess up, you missed me," Cameron teased.

"I don't confess to anyone," House retorted.

"Is that a challenge?" Cameron asked. "How about a deal? I'll confess something to you first, then you can confess to me."

"What could you possibly have left to confess about? My god Cameron, did you kill somebody?" House asked.

"No, nothing like that. I'll confess it to you, but you have to swear not to use it against me," Cameron answered.

"Hmm," House mused. "Whatever it is must be good, otherwise you wouldn't care. I'm not sure I can keep that promise, but I'll try."

"My middle name is Henrietta," Cameron said.

"Henrietta? Sounds like something you'd name a chicken," House laughed.

"Very funny. Don't tell anyone. I hate that name. It was my great-grandmother's name. She raised my mom after my grandmother died, so my mom used it for my middle name. So, now you confess to me. You missed me, didn't you?"

"Here's my confession, I don't hate all country music," House replied.

"That's cheating!" Cameron protested.

"I said I'd confess something, I did NOT say I would answer a question. You got your confession, didn't you?" House asked.

"That's not the confession I wanted, and you know it," Cameron complained.

"You have years to go before you can toy with the master," House said in his most self-congratulatory tone.

"Yes, Master. I'll just go back to my bottle now," Cameron sneered. House laughed. "I'm actually tired. If you're okay, I'll see you Monday? And I'll tell Jimmy you're fine and to leave you alone."

"Thanks. See you Monday," House replied. "Cameron? I did miss you." House hung up before she could reply.

He closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the couch. He felt a little better. How did she do that to him?

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Day Five

House bolted upright in bed, panting and clutching his chest. He felt like he could barely breath; his chest was tight and pained. He was sweating and dizzy. Looking around the room, he had a hard time getting oriented, even though he recognized everything around him. He felt detached, like his surroundings weren't real, maybe he was still dreaming?

House rubbed his palm over his face and realized his hands were shaking. This was not a dream. He was having a panic attack. He squeezed his eyes closed and tried to regulate his breathing. He'd never had chest pains or discomfort before, but he knew it was a possible symptom of his withdrawal. That was probably what was causing him to have a panic attack. Forcing himself to concentrate on the logical, he was able to get his breathing under control. He opened his eyes and looked at his alarm clock. 4am.

House lay back down on the bed and covered his face with his arm. Remnants of a dream were tumbling through his mind. He'd had a nightmare. He was in the hospital, and Moriarty had come into the conference room. Except in the dream, Moriarty didn't shoot House, he shot Cameron and then shot himself. Foreman rushed into the hall to get a nurse and call security, while Chase dropped to Cameron's side. Chase checked her pulse, then looked at House and shook his head. That was when House woke up.

Of course he'd been dreaming about the shooting since it happened, but his Vicodin hazed dreams weren't quite the same as this. And in all his other dreams, he'd been the one being shot, not Cameron. Somehow, this dream was much more disturbing.

House looked at the clock again. 4:30. There was no way he was going back to sleep now. He grumbled as he got out of bed and made his way into the living room. It would be a good two hours of watching the home shopping channel before anything decent came on TV.

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By 10, House was feeling awful. He was exhausted, but couldn't sleep. He was starving, but the smell of any food made him so nauseous he couldn't eat. He was sweating, but cold. Nothing on the TV could hold his attention.

House sat at the piano, hoping to lose himself in the music. He tried to calm the shaking in his hands before laying his fingers on the keys. He closed his eyes and willed his hands to be still. There was nothing he felt like playing. All his favorites pieces seemed too happy or too sad, too fast or too slow.

House remembered the piece he had been playing the night Cameron brought over pizza, and that she'd told him he should play for an audience. His fingers began moving, almost of their own accord, and he began the piece. After the fifth missed note, he stopped. Frustration quickly turned to anger as he regarded the piano. He'd always found solace in music and now he couldn't even manage a simple piece. He slammed his fists on the keys in rage, the resulting noise only deepening his anger.

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House sat on the couch, staring hard at the gray metal box. He'd been staring at that box for nearly an hour. Reluctantly, he opened it, revealing the vials and syringes inside. In that box were two vials of morphine; morphine that he had carefully and secretly stockpiled over the last six years. One vial was nearly empty, the result of some rather careless use on his part before the shooting. The second vial was full.

The first vial contained just enough morphine for a really good high. It was tempting. The second vial contained enough to be fatal. He wasn't suicidal, just analyzing, he told himself. He stared at those two vials for a long time.

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House reached for the phone, the box, vials and syringes spread out on the table in front of him. He'd filled a syringe, but hadn't used it yet. House dialed a number and waited. Wilson's voice mail picked up. House disconnected without leaving a message. Still staring at the syringe, he dialed a second number. This time the machine at Wilson's place picked up. Again, House disconnected. He picked up the syringe and rolled it in his hands. He placed the syringe back on the table and dialed a third number. This time Cameron's voice mail picked up. House cursed. He leaned back into the couch.

He sat up again and dialed the phone. A voice on the other end answered.

"Hey," House said. "It's Greg."


	31. Chapter 31

Chapter 34

Day Six

Cameron arrived earlier than normal on Monday morning, dreading the backlog of mail and charts she knew would be strewn about House's office. No matter how much she admired and respected him as a doctor, Cameron had been appalled by his lack of concern for paperwork. She had yet to question why she felt the compulsive need to take care of it all. The idea that House had been even partially right about her need to fix things had been carefully put out of her mind.

Cameron was pleasantly surprised to find that while there were little piles of mail all over House's desk and floor, there had been no new patients while she was out, so there was no backlog of charting for her to do. Cameron gathered up all of the mail and dropped it on her desk. She went to the coffee maker and began a pot of a new coffee she'd brought in with her that morning. It was a flavored blend, which she suspected House would complain about, but secretly enjoy.

While the coffee brewed, Cameron began sorting through the mail. There were several requests for House to speak, which she threw away without even reading, and a number of requests from both patients and doctors for a consult. She began sorting those to read through, hoping to find a case House would be willing to look at.

Cameron had read through the first few of the requests, dismissing them as too simple, when House came into the conference room. He'd come in early, hoping Cameron would be there.

"Good morning," Cameron said as he walked in.

"You look better," House commented.

"And you look like hell," Cameron answered. "You're not sick," she continued, "you already told me that." Cameron paused. "How many days has it been?"

"Six," House replied. "It's that obvious?"

"Only because I know I should be looking," Cameron reassured him. "How bad is it?"

"I don't want to talk about it," House said. He looked at the hall behind them and seeing it empty, pulled Cameron into a quick hug. "I did miss you," he breathed, almost too quiet for her to hear.

Cameron pulled back and gave him a quick kiss.

"Me too," she said. He smiled at her, then let her go and turned to go into his office. Cameron went to the coffee pot to make him a cup. While she was pouring, Chase and Foreman entered.

"You're back," Chase said to Cameron.

"Well spotted, Chase," Foreman quipped. "Glad you're better, Cameron."

"Thanks," Cameron replied. House came back into the conference room and took his coffee from Cameron. He took a big sip and made a face.

"What is this?" He asked.

"Cinnamon almond," Cameron replied.

"It's supposed to be coffee, Cameron, not one of grandma's cookies," House snarked at her. It was actually pretty good coffee, but he didn't want Chase and Foreman to know he enjoyed flavored coffee. Cinnamon almond didn't exactly go with his bad boy image.

Foreman and Chase chuckled. They didn't really care what flavor coffee the coffee was, as long as House didn't make it.

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Chase and Foreman were sitting at the glass table, Foreman working on research for a new article and Chase frowning around his pencil at a crossword puzzle. Cameron had gone to the personnel office, to get some paperwork about the fellowship renewals. She figured it would be easier to take care of it all herself and just have him sign it.

House was in his office, playing his newest game, Elf Bowling. It wasn't his typical type of game, but when Quig had described it to him, it had sounded too funny to pass up. Quig had been right, the game was great, although House wasn't enjoying it as much as he could have been. His mind kept drifting back to phone call he'd made last night. Today it seemed like a bad idea. He was feeling better this morning, not good, but better.

To be perfectly honest, he was feeling better since he got to work and saw Cameron. He couldn't explain it, and tried not to think about it too much, but he just felt better when she was around. He hoped nothing would come of that phone call, maybe he could just forget about it. House was just settling back into the game when Wilson stormed into his office, throwing the door open with enough force to crack the glass wall separating House's office from the conference room.

"HOUSE!" Wilson bellowed. "Have you completely lost your mind?"

House let out a small sigh. So much for nothing coming of that phone call, he thought.

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Day Six - Continued

Foreman and Chase had both jumped when Wilson barreled into House's office. They stared in amazement at the crack in the glass wall. What could House possibly have done to make Wilson this angry? Not even bothering to conceal the fact that they were watching, Foreman and Chase stood up to get a better look at House's reaction.

"You sent her to the clinic! Our clinic! Did it even occur to you that you might get caught?" Wilson ranted.

Foreman and Chase looked at each other in confusion. House sent a patient to the clinic? That didn't make any sense, House never even saw patients. Wilson had stopped yelling, House was saying something but Foreman and Chase couldn't make out what it was. Cameron came back into the conference room. Seeing the looks on Foreman and Chase she paused before sitting at her desk to fill out her paperwork.

"What's going on?" Cameron asked.

"Dunno," Chase replied quietly. "Wilson's flipping out on House about something."

"About what?" Cameron asked, concerned.

"Some woman in the clinic?" Foreman responded. "Sshh."

"Oh, like whoever saw her wouldn't be able to figure out she was faking!" Wilson yelled. Cameron was taken aback by his tone. She'd never heard Wilson speak to House that way. "Did you write down everything you wanted her to say? Because she sounded like she was reciting it! A med student could have figured out she was lying."

The three fellows leaned forward unconsciously, trying to hear House's response. Although they could hear his voice, they still couldn't tell what he was saying. Cameron didn't like the look on his face, however. He looked guilty. House looking guilty was scary. What could he have done?

"It's only been five or six days!" Wilson shouted at House, and Cameron cringed. This had something to do with his rehab, not with a patient. What the hell was going on? "How could you be that stupid and desperate already? My God, you could have gone to another clinic and gotten the prescription yourself from some other doctor. Why on earth would you send her here?"

Cameron tensed; House was looking for another Vicodin prescription? No wonder he didn't want to talk about this morning, she thought. But who was the woman Wilson was yelling about?

"I thought she could pull it off!" House retorted. He wasn't yelling, but had raised his voice enough for the other to hear him.

"Are you nuts? Did you even listen to her? She used her real name. Paula Demarco. She said her doctor friend Greg referred her to the clinic. You're lucky I got her and not someone else; they would have turned you in! How could you think she'd be okay? She's a hooker, House, not a stage actress."

Wilson continued screaming at House, but Cameron could no longer hear him. Blood was pounding in her ears loud enough to drown out everything else. Foreman and Chase stared at each other, aghast. House sent his hooker to the clinic to try to scam a Vicodin prescription? That was low, even for him. Chase turned to check Cameron's reaction, but he was too late.

Cameron opened the door to House's office and stepped inside. House and Wilson turned to look at her in amazement. Wilson opened his mouth to say something, but one look at her face stopped him cold.

"When did you see her?" Cameron asked.

"What?" House said, hoping she hadn't heard anything.

"When did you see her?" Cameron repeated, more slowly and emphasized each word. Her tone was flat and cold, almost dead. House didn't think he'd ever heard her sound like that before. He dropped his eyes to the floor and scratched his thumb across his forehead.

"Last night," House said to his shoes.

"And then you kissed me this morning. You told me you missed me while I was sick. Like nothing happened," Cameron's voice revealed only disbelief.

"Nothing did happen," House said.

"Right, you invited a hooker over to play Scrabble," Cameron snapped. She took a very deep breath. House stepped closed to her and reached a hand out to touch her shoulder. She stepped back, out of his reach.

"Don't," she warned. She turned around walked slowly through the door leading into the conference room. Foreman and Chase jumped out of her way, frightened by her expression. Cameron continued into the hall and out of sight without looking back or saying another word.

House tried to say something, but nothing would come out. He looked at Wilson, but Wilson only glared back at him.

"I hope it was worth it," Wilson spat, and left House's office without giving him a chance to respond.


	32. Chapter 32

Chapter 35

Day Six

The Decision

House opened the door to Quig's office without knocking. Quig looked up in surprise, which quickly became concern at the look on House's face. House tossed some papers on Quig's desk and took a deep breath.

"I need your help," House said.

"I've been waiting for you to say that," Quig replied. "What's this?" he asked, picking up the papers House had tossed at him.

"Is this place any good?" House asked, pacing the floor. Quig flipped through the pages quickly, then glanced up at House.

"It's excellent. It's one of the best. How did you find it?" Quig asked.

"I didn't," House replied. He sat down in one of the leather chairs, slumped forward with his elbows on his knees and put his head in his hands. "Cameron gave it to me a while back."

"Gotta love that Dr. Cameron, huh?" Quig said lightly.

"Yeah," House said to the floor. "Can you get me in there?" He lifted his head to look at Quig. 

"When can you leave?" Quig asked, picking up the phone.

"Right now," House replied.

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Wilson was shuffling papers on his desk, not really working but just trying to keep busy. He jumped when his cell phone began to ring. It was odd, because the only people who ever call him were at the hospital, and they certainly would have called his office phone. Wilson took the cell phone out of his pocket and glanced at it. _House Calling_, read the screen. Wilson hesitated. He wasn't sure if he was ready to talk to him yet.

"House?" Wilson answered.

"I need a ride to the airport," House said.

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Wilson and House drove silently in Wilson's car to the airport. House had packed himself just one bag, which now rested on the backseat. Wilson assumed this meant House wouldn't be gone long.

"Running away from home?" Wilson began, trying to keep things light. "Mommy will be angry when she finds out."

"I'm going to Atlanta," House said shortly.

"What's in Atlanta?" Wilson asked. He could tell from House's tone he wasn't in the mood for their usual banter.

"Rehab center," House answered. Wilson glanced over at his friend and raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. They drove in silence for a few more minutes before Wilson spoke again.

"Staying long?" he asked.

"Few weeks, a month maybe," House said. He closed his eyes and rested his head on his seat. "Jimmy, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything," Wilson said, and meant it. House only called him Jimmy when he was teasing him about something, which he certainly wasn't doing now. Whatever this was about, it was deadly serious.

"Talk to Cameron. Make sure she's okay," House said. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out an envelope. "And give her this." He handed the envelope to Wilson.

Wilson held the envelope against the steering wheel until they reached a red light. Then he began tapping it on his leg.

"I won't lie to her," Wilson said, without looking at House. "I need you to tell me the truth. Did you sleep with her?"

"Not yet," House answered. "Why?"

"Not Cameron," Wilson said. "Paula?"

"You know I did," House said. "What is this about?"

"I mean last night. Cameron's going to ask," Wilson said.

"No," House said. He looked at Wilson, and Wilson looked back. Wilson nodded, then put the envelope in the inside pocket of his jacket. The light turned green, and Wilson started driving again.

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The Conclusion

Cuddy sat waiting at the glass table in the Diagnostics conference room. She had paged Cameron, Chase and Foreman to join her there. She stared at the whiteboard, and then glanced at House's dark office.

Foreman and Chase joined her in the conference room. Both glanced at the whiteboard, and then at Cuddy, expectantly. She merely motioned for them to have a seat.

"Just waiting for Dr. Cameron," Cuddy told the boys. Chase opened his mouth to ask her about the whiteboard, but Cuddy raised a hand to silence him. "I'm only doing this once. Questions will have to wait."

Cameron walked slowly toward the conference room. She peeked through the glass to make sure House wasn't there. She really did not want to see him. Seeing Cuddy and the boys, she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and stepped inside. Her eyes were drawn immediately to the whiteboard. She sat next to Foreman, but her eyes were glued to the message.

_Gone to Atlanta. Back in a few weeks. _

_You kids play nice._

_H_

_PS –Chase no touching the markers!_

"Dr. House will be unreachable for the next two or three weeks, possibly a month, while he enters a drug rehab center. The department will have to continue to take on any new cases that come in during that time. Dr. Wilson and myself will be available to consult with you on any and all cases at any time you need us. The three of you will have to share Dr. House's clinic duty, in addition to your own while he is gone. Questions?" Cuddy spoke professionally, but the tone in her voice gave away her concern.

"Will you be in charge of the team, or Dr. Wilson?" Chase asked.

"Actually, Dr. Chase, at Dr. House's request Dr. Cameron will be in charge during his absence." Cuddy replied. At this, Cameron's head whipped around to face Cuddy.

"What?" she breathed.

"You heard it right. Dr. Cameron, you're the boss, for the next few weeks anyway." Cuddy looked at the team. "It's been a long day, and you don't have a case at the moment. Go home; get some rest. You're going to need it." She smiled at them all and left.

Foreman and Chase didn't need to be told twice. They both remembered the difficult time they'd had with the case Foreman had accepted the time House had been snowed in at the airport in Baltimore. A few weeks of that would be hell, not to mention all the extra clinic hours.

Cameron remained seated at the table staring at the whiteboard. She sat there for hours, as the hospital darkened around her. Wilson found her there when he got back from the airport. He sat beside her for a few minutes without speaking. Finally, Cameron turned to look at him.

"How long have you been sitting here?" he asked her.

"I don't know," she replied. She looked around the room and then out the window, seeing the dark for the first time.

"He'll be okay, Allison," Wilson reassured her.

"I hope so," Cameron replied. She gave him a sad smile. "He left me in charge while he's gone."

"He trusts you," Wilson said simply.

"No," she refuted him. "He's just playing me. That's House."

"Do you really believe that?" Wilson asked her. Cameron just looked at him. Wilson shook his head. "He's not playing you Allison. He cares. He's just … bad at showing it."

"I'd call sleeping with a hooker and dating me at the same time a little more than bad at showing it," Cameron replied. Her voice held no venom, no malice, only pain and exhaustion.

"He didn't," Wilson explained. "He didn't sleep with her. Well, not last night anyway."

"He told you that?" she asked. Wilson nodded. "And you believe him?"

"Yeah, I do," Wilson answered slowly. He took the envelope from his pocket and handed it to her. "He asked me to give this to you, after I made sure you were okay." Cameron put the envelope on the table and looked at it. Wilson stood and made his way to the door. He paused, and then turned back to Cameron.

"I once told you that you'd be surprised what you can live with," Wilson said. "I think you'd also be surprised what you can't live with." Cameron looked at him questioningly. "He can't live with himself hurting you. That should be worth something." Wilson turned and left Cameron alone.

Cameron fingered the envelope for a minute before opening it. A thin sheet of paper slipped out. She picked it up and read the two words in the handwriting she knew so well.

_Wait. Please._

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House sat in the airline seat; head tipped back, eyes closed. He was tired, more tired than he could remember being for a long time. The phone in his pocket vibrated. He knew he was supposed to turn it off before boarding, but he was hoping to hear from someone. He took the phone out of his pocket, and looked up and down the aisle to be sure none of the flight attendants would see him. He opened the phone, and the screen indicated he had a new text message. He pushed a few buttons, and a message from Cameron appeared.

_Still waiting._

House smiled.


End file.
